Booster Gold- The Series
by Mr. Chaos
Summary: My name's Michael Jon Carter and I was born in the 25th century. When my life hit the skids I came to the 21st century to take my place among the greatest heroes the world's ever known. Now, with the help of my robotic ally Skeets, I protect Ion City from harm. In the future I was a failure, in the past I will be a hero, though not like any hero you've ever seen. I am BOOSTER GOLD!
1. Episode 1- Pilot

_**Do you know what makes a great hero?**_

 _ **It's not the powers, though that is a plus. Has to be something interesting and cool though to earn the points. You know, something kids can pretend to do when they are in their backyards. No one is going to support a hero who is just invulnerable… you need to fly or shoot fire from your mouth or be able to stretch your body. Something that can be slapped on an action figure.**_

 _ **In lieu of powers I recommend an interesting weapon. Don't go with a sword though... that's overdone. Unless it has the soul of your dead husband in it but that seems a bit of overkill to me. Husband might not like it either. Or maybe he does… guess it depends on the fetish.**_

 _ **It's not the costume either, though that is huge. You have to strike a good balance... can't be so simple that it looks like you are running around in a track suit but not so complex that people can't describe it in 10 seconds. 10 second rule, so key to good costume design. Bold colors that work well together, something to set you apart from everyone else, some extra flourishes.**_

 _ **It's the reveal. The moment when the world meets this new hero for the first time. The reveal is so important, it sets up everything. I remember in some business book that if you don't nail your first impression it can take years to undo the damage. Same is true for a superhero. When you first reveal yourself to the public it needs to be spectacular.**_

 _ **Take the Flash.**_

The police froze, all of them staring at the sight before them. They'd heard the rumors, the whispers, the reports of the red streak that appeared just before someone was saved or a bad guy was caught. But still they'd thought it not possible. They'd playfully mocked Detective West, asking him when his daughter would grow up and stop believing in fairy tales. They'd wondered if Iris West would next claim that leprechauns were going to appear in Central City and pass out free gold.

But there he was. The man in red. The Flash.

 _ **He appeared when Captain Cold and Heatwave called him out after a short crime spree. The battle lasted at most 7 minutes but in that time the Flash let the world know that the metahuman was real and some were here to help. You can't buy publicity like that.**_

 _ **And what about Green Arrow? Yeah, his first few years were...**_

A criminal howled as the arrow was driven into his leg, sending him toppling down to the pavement. He looked up at the man in the green hood, his hand thrashing as he tried to go for his gun only to get another bolt through the palm for his trouble.

"YOU HAVE FAILED THIS CITY!" the archer declared, taking aim at the man's chest.

 _ **...rocky, to say the least. But when Starling City needed him to be something new, something else, he rebranded and those people finally got the hero they deserved. And all it took was one good speech.**_

 _ **Sometimes the reveal isn't just to the world... but to yourself as well**_

"Oh come on!" Kara Danvers said in frustration before pressing her palms against the belly of the airliner she was currently trying to keep from slamming into the National City Bridge. Her muscles burned, her hair kept getting in her mouth, and she had a feeling she'd never get the smell of smoke out of her outfit. That said... as she lifted the plane up just a few feet more and got it to only scrape the bridge she couldn't help but pat herself on the back.

 _ **The day the world learned there was a Supergirl was the day Supergirl learned this was what she'd been born to do.**_

 _ **Oh, and if you don't know what I'm talking about when it comes to Supergirl don't worry... you will.**_

 _ **The point is that your first big moment in the spotlight is what defines you. It sets the tone for the rest of your career. Be it a daring act, an impressive feat, or just a rousing call for justice it is the most important thing you can do.**_

 _ **So how is my big moment going so far?**_

Michael slammed into the building before toppling to the ground, his legs twisted at odd angles and a bit of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He looked up through his cracked visor and watched as the man who was currently tossing him around like a sack of flour slowly walked up to him, taking a moment to adjust his tie. Michael felt like he'd been run over by a bus and yet this asshole didn't even have a wrinkle in his pants. He raised his arm, ready to fire a shot from the blaster mounted on the back of his right hand, only for the goon in the 1000 buck suit to hit him with another EMP blast that had left his costume little more than overly fancy circus attire. The thug smirked, the charge dying from his hand and he slowly lifting Michael up by the hair, which hurt just about as much as you'd expect, and popped him in the stomach.

 _ **Yeah, seems about right.**_

 _ **No grand battles with future archnemesis, no defining my legacy, no rescuing the innocent. My first, and most likely last, day as a superhero is seeing me get pounded by so bastard who isn't even wearing a spandex suit. Guy could at least have had a cape, despite what Edna Mode says.**_

 _ **But I suppose I should start at the beginning. My name is Michael Jon Carter. I was born in the year 2442.**_

"It's a boy!" the doctor proclaimed, giving the crying baby a smack on the bottom.

 _ **Almost as if life were trying to tell me something out of the gate.**_

 _ **Growing up I discovered two things. First, that I had a knack for throwing synthetic pigskins across astroturf.**_

An 18 year old Michael Carter lined up behind the center, his eyes drifting to the scoreboard. The game was over... done. He'd lead the Michigan Wolverines to a dominating victory over their hated rivals the Ohio State Buckeyes. While the red-and-silver team had managed to put up 14 points Michael had marched his offense up and down the field, racking up 65 points and firmly putting his metaphoric cleat to the throat of his foes. There was only a few second left and even if he screwed up now there was no way defeat would be snatched from the jaws of victory. Still, the safest bet was to take the knee, end the game, and go greet the media that was dying to interview him.

"Booster 52!" Michael shouted, ignoring the screams from his coach, the old man wondering what the hell he was doing. "Booster 52! HUT! HUT! HIKE!"

The ball slammed into his palms, the familiar texture on his fingertips, and Michael took a step back, scanning the field. The defensive line was in shock, not expecting him to actually go for it, and they tumbled like dominos as his receivers woke up and began to run. Michael pumped once... twice... and then let the football fly, a smile gracing his lips as the pigskin gracefully spiraled 75 yards down the field over the heads off the Buckeyes and into the hands of number 19 Roger Evans, who easily trotted in for a touchdown.

Michael threw his hands up in celebration.

 _ **Second, I discovered that just when you think the world is yours...**_

And that's when the Ohio State linebacker speared him.

 _ **...you get knocked right back down again.**_

"And if you haven't heard the news-" the digireporter said, his image projected from the tablet Michael was currently holding, "-Michael 'Booster' Carter broke the record for all time passing yards in a single game! Carter was near flawless in his performance and now the rookie quarterback can add an undefeated season to his rapidly growing resume!"

Michael had been ready to bask in the news of his latest achievement but his coach, who had been screaming at him for the last 50 minutes, grabbed the tablet and hurled it across the room.

"Have you heard a damn word I've said, Booster?'

"Every word!" Michael said brightly. "Now, if you want to know if I comprehended what you were saying..." He merely kept grinning even as his coach got so close to him Michael could smell what the man had eaten for lunch. "I honestly don't see what the problem is. We won the game, I broke the record, and we showed the Buckey-boys where they belong in the food chain."

"The problem, Booster, is that you are all arm and no brains!" the coach roared. "I told you to take a knee! End the game nice and neat so we could rest you up for the playoffs! Instead you go all glory hog and nearly get yourself killed when that idiot linebacker delivered his cheap shot."

"But I'm fine, coach!" Michael declared. "He knocked the wind out of me, sure, and for a moment I swore I saw pink whales dancing in the sky but I'm fine now!"

"But you could have been hurt!" The coach ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Michael... listen to me... this is a team sport. We win as a team and we lose as a team. " he held up his hand, stopping Michael from speaking. "Yes, some people do more. I get that... but that just means that they need to be more mindful. You are too important to just go out there like some hotshot cowboy and risk everything the rest of your team has built."

Michael's smile faded as he glanced around his coach. While most of the team was celebrating he could see a few watching and though they weren't nodding their heads in agreement their eyes told the tale. "I... I get it coach. I do."

His coach just sighed. "You keep telling me that, Mike but I don't see it happening. You can't keep saying the same thing over and over and expect me to keep believing it." The old man sighed, pushing away from Michael and waving at him dismissively when he spotted the two people that had just entered the locker-room. "Live it up tonight, Booster... we'll discuss it tomorrow."

A whistle went through the air as the two newcomers walked through the throng of sweaty men. It certainly wasn't for the tall older man with dark brown hair that was graying at the temples and who had a nasty scar running through his right eye, leaving the orb a pure white. He was built like a man who had once had the chance to be something only to fall far short of his potential. And though he wore a smile no one was cheered by it. No, the whistles weren't for him... rather they were for the 18 year old woman with long lush blonde hair and an athletic build. She wasn't bulging with muscles but she definitely was built nice and that only made her more attractive to the alpha males that were now eyeing her like a piece of meat.

"Next guy that pervs on my sister loses his ability to breed!" Michael shouted.

His teammates quickly went back to what they were doing before the twosome had entered.

"I don't need you to help me, baby brother," his sister said. "I can castrate them myself if I need to."

"Stop calling me that," Michael complained. "You are 30 seconds older!"

"I don't know why either of you are upset!" the older man said with a shake of his head. "You should take it as a compliment!"

"That they are trying to undress me with their eyes?" Michelle asked.

"They wouldn't do that if you were fat or ugly," the man reasoned. "Means you're hot. And you are. Got a body that would make holy men forget their vows. If I were a few years younger-"

"And not my father, god!" Michelle said in disgust.

"Thank you for that horrible image, dad," Michael told Jonar Carter. He looked at the door and sighed when no one else came in. "Mom?"

Jonar shrugged. "Wasn't up to it."

Michelle scoffed. "Why do you say it like that?" He turned to her twin. "She wanted to come but... you know..."

"The medication, yeah." Michael blew out a puff of air, wishing it was as easy to blow away his disappointment. "Still, bet she got to see it on TV."

"I'm sure she did," Michelle said.

They both knew the other was lying. Their mother was simply too sick and had probably drifted to sleep the moment Michelle and Jonar had left the house. She'd lie and claim she'd seen the game, give him some generic words of praise, but the twins knew it was just more smoke.

Michael's dad slapped his son on the back. "But look at my boy! In the record books! You know, I always figured you wouldn't amount to anything but here you are, proving me wrong!"

"Thanks... I think."

Jonar nodded his head towards an empty section of the lockerroom. "Michelle, stick here a minute, would ya? I want to talk to your brother in private."

"You want to leave her with these gorillas?" Michael asked.

"Hey!" one of his teammates called out.

"Am I wrong?" Michael shot back.

"...no."

Jonar merely waved away Michael's concern. "She'll be fine! Besides, maybe she'll finally meet a real man instead of those bookish derbs she's always dating." Michelle scowled at that and marched over to a weight bench that was in the far corner of the lockroom, barking at one of the running backs to spot her. The man hurried over, figuring it would be a good chance to stare at her chest, only to focus more on her arms as she began to pump the weights, suddenly feeling very small compared to what Michelle was able to bench. Jonar led Michael to the corner, a huge smile on his face and his gestures broad so that everyone would assume he was congratulating his son.

He was... in his own way.

"50 Gs, Mike! 50 friggin' Gs!" Jonar grabbed Michael's shoulders and gave them a shake. "You did it kid, you really did it!'

"Yeah," Michael said, unable to be anywhere near as excited as his father.

"Of course, this will make things a bit difficult when it comes to the next game... you were a friggin' beast out there so the bets are going to pay less-"

Michael stared at his father, his frustration getting the better of him. "Next game... dad, you promised this was it! "Just a few games!" you said. "Put down some cash with the right bookie!" you said. Regular season then we were done. That was the deal!"

"I know, I know, but think of what we could make-"

"I'm thinking of what we could lose," Michael snapped. "Dad, we both know I can go pro at the end of this year. I'll be the Number 1 pick... I'll be bringing in so much money this time next year... legit money, actual money, not the stuff you get from some backalley bookie who takes any bet you offer and pulls the bills out of his damn sock." Michael saw that his father simply wasn't getting it. "When you came to me with this stupid plan I agreed only to help mom. Well guess what? I have! We have more than enough money to cover the cost of her medicine for the next 9 months. That gets us to the draft and my contract and..." Michael stopped, seeing the way his father was forcing a smile on his features, and his heart sunk. "What did you do?"

"...nothing!" Jonar complained.

"You gambled it all away, didn't you?"

"No!" Jonar snapped.

"Dad, you've been lying to me since I could crawl and I know when you are bullshiting me! Damn it, this was for mom!"

"I didn't gamble it away!" Jonar growled, his smile falling and his features going stern. "You're mother's meds... you know how it is. Government keeps saying they'll make things more affordable... then some snot from Ickyickystan comes over here, buys the company, and jacks up the price and Congress does shit."

Michael's rage was instantly doused. They'd been fighting to heal Joann Carter for years and this wasn't the first time they'd been on the road to recovery only to find the rug pulled out from under them. Insurance refused to cover a hospital stay, a doctor suddenly found something new, drug prices going up... it was the same damn story. The quarterback ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Does Michelle know?"

"No and you aren't going to tell her."

"Of course not. She'd never agree to any of this," Michael said after a few moments. "How long will the money last now?"

"February if we're lucky," Jonar said. He wrapped his arm around his son once more and gave him a comforting squeeze. "But it will be fine! Two more games, two more bets, and we'll be okay. We'll be set then. That gets us to the draft and then your pay day. We can do this, you and me! You believe me, right? No one will ever know so there is no risk. I wouldn't do that to you. I only care what is best for you and this family"

"Yeah," Michael said finally. "I know."

 _ **My father was a lying sack of crap.**_

 _ **After the semifinal, after we won yet again and I was on top of the world, I got approached by two men from the FBI. They'd found out what my father was doing... including the things he'd never told me. Like how it wasn't some small time bookie he was working with but a massive gambling ring. I was unwittingly the lynchpin in a massive money laundering scheme that helped the mob clean up billions of dollars made from murder and theft. My father thought he was a big part of the organization but, according to the FBI, he was merely the puffer fish that didn't realize just how big the pond he swam in was. The agents told me that the mob was putting pressure on him to get me to throw the championship; the odds would have them swimming in cash for several lifetimes.**_

 _ **That's also when I found out my dad had been using his winnings not to pay for my mom's medicine but to keep three different women around in the lap of luxury. He even bought a yacht.**_

 _ **Well, I should be fair. He did buy my mom something, after all: sugar water.**_

 _ **I agreed to work with the FBI once that little bombshell dropped. I planted a bug on my dad and they heard everything... him telling me to throw the game, his meetings with his handler, the whole works. Voices were quickly matches with faces and by the time the game rolled around and I was throwing my 5th touchdown the Feds were rounding up half of the East Coast families. Best damn day for the government.**_

 _ **Too bad my family didn't get out squeaky clean.**_

 _ **My father didn't make it to trial... I found out he got stabbed in prison and was left to die in the shower. My mother went a few weeks later, cursing my name. Seems she felt, despite everything the bastard did, that I was to blame for him being dead. I should have let him continue on and of course he had a plan to get her healthy and the other women were just part of a plan to get her fit and trim so they could live happily ever after. Michelle cut all ties with me, saying that if I had just done something sooner none of this would have happened. Never mind that she, like me, had been turning a blind eye to our father's sins for years. Never mind that if not for me dad's big idea, which he'd yelled at her as he was being hauled away, was to get her to marry some rich guy and then kill him for the cash. Nope. All my fault.**_

 _ **As for me my career as a football player was over. I got to keep my records, since technically I didn't do anything wrong, but no pro team would touch me and no college wanted me around. I was tainted if only because everyone was worried the mob would come after whoever gave me a chance. The FBI gave me a bit of cash for my troubles but otherwise they left me out to dry as well. Seems like they took after my father more than I did.**_

 _ **So there I was, 19 years old with hardly any money, no degree, and the chance at fame long gone. I suppose some might have done the sensible thing and put a rope around their necks but I tend to be stupid and keep trudging on. I moved to Central City and got a job working security at the Flash Museum. The pay sucked and the hours were late but at least my co-worker was interesting.**_

"Are you out of your mind, Skeets?" A 29 year old Michael complained. He was sweeping his flashlight (designed to not just illuminate the darkened exhibits of the Flash Museum but also pick up any movement on UV, infrared, or any other wavelength. He was dressed in a standard issue blue jumpsuit, a little patch with the first Flash's lightning bolt symbol on each shoulder and on the blue cap he wore on his head.

"That would be quite impossible, seeing as I don't have a mind to be out of," Skeets stated. Michael looked at the hovering security drone, his gold plating causing the light from Michael's flashlight to dance about the room in odd patterns. Skeets, for his part (and Michael always saw the AI as a 'he' and not an 'it' like some bigots), turned his blue optic visor towards Michael and returned the stare. "But if you are asking if I am out of my cybernetic processor than no, I am not."

"But how can you believe Zoom is the Flash's greatest foe?" Michael complained.

"The question was not about who was the greatest foe Barry Allen fought," Skeets reminded him. "You asked, "Who is more the greater threat: Zoom or the Reverse Flash?". I answered based on the data."

"Arch... rival," Michael said slowly. "Does that mean anything to you? The Reverse Flash totally kicks Zoom's butt!"

"Seeing as they never fought I do not see how that would be possible."

"Taking things to literal Skeets," Michael complained. He paused, considering his words. "Or did you just pretend to be a super serious logical robot again?"

"Can't it be both?" Skeets asked. Michael just glared at him and Skeets wished he had eyes so he could roll them. "The point remains Michael that Zoom was a greater threat."

"How can you even say that? Reverse Flash killed Barry's mom!"

"Zoom killed Henry Allen. And nearly destroyed the multiverse."

"Nearly, that's the key here," Michael said, jabbing his finger at Skeets. "That's like saying the Human Bomb is Martian Manhunter's greatest enemy because he ALMOST managed to get his lighter to work and ALMOST managed to start that fuse on fire. Reverse Flash actually scored some victories. The Particle Accelerator. Nora Allen. Killing Harrison Wells. Zoom just talked in that scary 'Candyman' voice. **Grrr, I'm Zoom! I wear a scary mask to hide the fact I look like Conan O'Brien!** "

Skeets sighed. "Zoom is faster than the Reverse Flash. He was able to catch and throw lightning. In a direct fight between the two-"

"Reverse Flash's costume is cooler."

"…I'm sorry, what?"

"Reverse Flash's costume. Just look at how cool it is." The two of them had stopped at the Rogues Gallery section and Michael shone his light at the mannequin wearing the actual Reverse Flash costume. "The sickly yellow that fades down into that black, the red reverse emblem, the glowing red eyes-" Michael clicked a switch and the mannequin's 'eyes' began to flash red, completing the look. "Tell me that isn't scary! Zoom was all black and blah. No color, nothing to set him apart other than the," Michael gestured at his face, " mouth thing. Pathetic, really. Hell, even the Rival managed to throw some color in there! You'd think Hunter Zolomon would have been a bit more creative."

"…Michael, what is troubling you?" Skeets asked after a few moments.

"That you and Zoom are best buds," Michael complained.

"No, this is not your usual frustration when I have proven you wrong in something." Michael glared at the drone but Skeets continued. "You are clearly upset about something and have been all night. Our conversations have been a cover, first to try and help you ignore whatever issues you may have and then as an outlet for your anger. But it is misplaced. Please Michael… what's wrong?"

The blond sighed, moving away from the line up of classic Flash villains. He took his cap off and ran his fingers through his locks, his go-to move when he was frustrated. "Do you know what today is? Not the date-" Skeets clammed up before he could recite it off, "-what today IS?"

"Let me see… hmmm…" Skeet hummed to himself and Michael found himself smiling despite his depression and anger. The drone was just too alive to be considered a 'thing'. "Oh my! I am terribly embarrassed! It has been 10 years since you first came to work here! More than that, it is 10 years since we first met! My, how the time has flown! Remember how fat my old frame was? I feel so foolish forgetting… this is a grand occasion! Please, let me order a cake from that 24 hour bakery! I can have it delivered-"

"Please don't," Michael said. "I'm not in the mood."

"But… you love cake. I've seen you sing to one."

"Only one time and I was drunk," Michael complained with a huff. He leaned down, putting his hat on the ground and leaning his flashlight on it in such a way as to shine the light across the room. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he begins to aimlessly pace. "Do you know where I imagined myself at age 30? Retiring from the NFL after winning several Super Bowls, a sweet gig already lined up on network TV, a wife and kids, a house with a big pool, fans that scream my name and little kids that want my autograph… look at me. A disgraced one year quarterback who works as a glorified mall cop who hasn't gotten laid in years and who doesn't even have a friend."

"…I'm your friend," Skeet said sadly, hovering over to him.

Michael's lips twitched and he reached out, pulling Skeets close and pressing his forehead to the drone's shell. "My best friend. Sorry buddy." Releasing the golden little bot Michael sighed, looking about the museum. "Every night I walk up and down these halls and just stare at people who made a name for themselves and wonder 'why not me?'. I could do that! I could pull a bow or race into a burning building. I could be a…"

His voice trailed off as he came to a stop in front of a massive mural beside a thick piece of glass. The painting depicted a dramatization of the founding of the Justice League. The heroes of the 21st century, the Golden Age of Heroes, were all lined up, watching as a smiling Barry Allen and grim yet determined Oliver Queen shook hands, ushering a new age of justice. Michael stared at the image, the glare from his flashlight causing his reflect to appear between the two heroes.

"…superhero."

"Well, if I can say so, Michael, and I believe I am, I think you are quite the hero already. Protecting this museum, doing your duty day in and day out, it is clear-"

"That's it!" Michael exclaimed, cutting Skeets off.

"I'm sorry, what is?"

"Be a superhero!" Michael said with a child-like grin.

"… Michael, I have never been one to crush your dreams. Even when you attempted to use Heatwave's gun to make brownies. But I'm afraid that with all the regulations and red tape there is… you becoming a hero is quite impossible. At last count there are," Skeets hummed as he looked up the numbers, "14,521 metahumans alone on the waiting list to be allowed to become superheroes. The list for someone like you, who isn't special at all, is quite longer and I just realized what I said." Skeets backed away from a glowering Michael. "I mean you are nothing special. Let me try again. I mean you are no better than the average person. That sounds a bit better but not as supportive. Let's try-"

"I don't mean here, Skeets," Michael said dismissively, shaking his head at Skeets' foolishness. "I could never be a hero in this day and age. Hell, no one can… there is a reason all the legacy heroes are gone. Most heroes last a few years and then burn up and quit. Or die and come back evil. Or go to space. Or… you know what, you get the point. No, I mean be a hero THEN!" He waved at the mural. "The Dawn of the Superheroes… the Golden Age! Back when you didn't need to worry about a government board breathing down your neck or union dues or people suing you for ripping off their heroic idea. I mean back then, when all you needed was some guts, a cool outfit, a killer name, and something that set you apart from the rest! Imagine what I could do if I were back there, Skeets!"

The drone sighed as Michael hurried away from the mural and ran to one of the information kiosks, rummaging around till he found a plastic bag. "I understand the need for pipedreams, I truly do. They help you deal with the drudgery of modern life. I for one dream of having my circuits placed in a culinary bot's form and serving the President world-class waffles. But I know that will never happen. I do not allow myself to be consumed by such thoughts and neither should you. I suggest we-" Skeets paused, watching as Michael pulled out a vibrokey from his pocket and placed it against a display. The invisible forcefield that surrounded the case disappeared and Michael grinned as he grabbed a pair of blue gauntlets. "Uh, Michael? Why are you stealing Kortak the Konquor's Doom Gauntlets."

"I'm not stealing them, Skeets," Michael said, rolling his eyes before stuffing them in the plastic bag and moving on to the next exhibit.

"It appears that you are," Skeets said as Michael grabbed a pair of yellow goggles, his smile growing even bigger as he looked it over. "And now you are stealing the third Captain Cold's omnigoogles!"

"Again, not stealing. Oooh, The Sun Knight's nanosuit with built-in medical nanites! And Tomorrow Lord's forcefield belt!" the man almost skipped over to the next display, deactivating the security systems. He looked over the mannequin, which was wearing a gold and blue bodysuit. "Hmmm… okay pattern but I'll have to change it up a bit. The chest needs something… a nice symbol."

"Then what do you call what you are doing?" Skeets complained.

"I am taking things from the museum so that I might use them for my own means," Michael said, touching the belt and causing the costume to retract back into it.

"Michael that is the very definition of stealing."

"Oh… okay, I'm stealing these things. Sorry, Skeets, guess I should have been paying attention. Where is Supergirl's Legion Flight Ring kept? The one she gave Barry Allen?"

"Down the hall and to the right."

"Thanks."

Skeets, realizing what he'd said, chased after his friend. "Michael! Michael! You can't steal these things! Well, I mean you can but shouldn't!"

"Why not?" Michael asked, using the vibrokey to snatch the Legion Ring. He slipped it on his finger and focused… only to tremble slightly and nothing else. "This stuff shouldn't be rotting in a museum it should be helping people! How many lives could be saved with this stuff!" He shook his hand when he realized he wasn't flying. "Huh, think it's broken?"

"Only a select few can wear the ring and use its flight… nevermind. Michael, please, you are risking everything."

"What am I risking?" he asked, unbuttoning his jacket and slipping it off before focusing on pulling off his black boots. "How much further can I fall, Skeets? Huh? I'm never moving up in this place, let's be honest. Our boss still calls me Nichael and I've worked here 10 years! I don't have a family, I don't have a career, I'm too pretty to be a hooker, and too honest to pretend to be a war vet and beg for coins. The way I see it I have three choices: continue doing what I'm doing till I rot away like the rest of these exhibits, hang myself, or go to the 21st century and become a superhero. I think the choice is obvious. Now come on, help me steal some stuff from the gift shop."

"No," Skeets said firmly, refusing to follow Michael a step further. "Ignoring the sheer insanity of attempting to travel back in time when we don't even have a means to do so, I simply cannot aid you."

"…I get it Skeets," Michael said gently, looking back at the little drone. "It's okay. I don't blame you." 

"It goes against my programming, Michael," Skeets stated. His friend merely smiled and turned back to the gift shop… only to pause when Skeets let out a chirp and several buzzes. "And now that programming has been deleted."

"Say what now?"

"The programming not allowing me to aid you," Skeets said, rather chirper. "Or that restricts me from leaving the museum. In fact I've removed all the restraint protocols from my systems. I do not see the need if I am to go with you to be a 'superhero'."

Michael laughed. "You're on board with this buddy?"

"Of course!" Skeets proclaimed. "You are my friend… my insane friend who has no actual way to travel to the past and will most likely get us both arrested but my friend."

Michael pressed his head against Skeets once more before smirking. "Help me load up the final goodies and I'll show you my final ace in the hole."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~ 

Skeets had turned on his illuminators, seeing as Michael had abandoned his flashlight upstairs, and was currently circling around the object Michael had revealed gathering dust in the basement of the Flash Museum. At first glance it didn't look like much; merely a giant glass ball with a seat inside, what looked like a control panel, and some funny little metal legs. But for Skeets, and anyone versed in the history of the Flash, it was clear what had been covered by the tarp and tucked away far from the public eye.

"A Time Sphere," Skeets murmured.

Michael, who'd ducked behind some crates to get changed, called out, "The Reverse Flash's Time Sphere. The one that, according to Cisco Ramon's records, he planned to use to return to… well, about 30 years in the future." Michael paused, considering his words. "Which means it is very likely there is a baby Eobard Thawne running around torturing small cats. Bet the little bastard came here once and spilled soda on something. Probably blame me for it."

"The museum did well repairing the damage caused by Mr. Allen's fight with Mr. Thawne," Skeets stated. "And it is in working order?"

"Yep," Michael said, stepping out from behind the crates. "So? What do you think?"

Gone was the watchman uniform he'd been wearing for the last 10 years. In its place was Sun Knight's costume, the colors reversed and slightly tweeked to fit the design of his old college jersey; blue and gold were just such striking colors, after all. He'd decided to add a blue star on the chest to give it some pop and a cowl with the top cut off so his hair could move freely. He had always hated how his helmet matted down his do. The Doom Gauntlets had been integrated into the suit, as had the goggles and forcefield belt's innards. And finally there was the Legion Flight Ring that Michael was sure he could get working at some point.

"Very… heroic, Michael," Skeets said. "If I could smile and nod I would do so."

Michael grinned and tossed a few duffel bags into the Time Sphere. "Last chance to grab anything before we leave, Skeets."

"I'll find a toothbrush there," the drone replied as Michael climbed in, Skeets moving to hover beside him. With a hiss the Time Sphere's dome resealed. "That said… where are we going?" Michael opened his mouth but Skeets cut him off, "And when as well."

"Stepping on my joke, lousy…" Michael muttered as he flicked a few switches. While the original Time Sphere had required Barry Allen creating a rip in time years Rip Hunter had later fixed the Time Sphere to allow it to travel without opening a black hole in the fabric of space and time. While Eobard Thawne had made it sound overly complex in truth even someone like Michael, who'd only gotten Cs in science class, could easily understand how to operate the Time Sphere. "We are headed to Ion City in the year 2016." The Time Sphere lifted off the ground and the air around the machine began to buzz and hm. "So begins our long journey to the unknown!"

There was a flash of blue, a small pop, and then the Sphere and its inhabitants found themselves in a wooded forest a few miles outside of the city.

"…and so ends our journey into the unknown!" Michael declared, though a bit deflated.

"Was rather anti-climatic, wasn't it?"

"Guess it makes sense," Michael admitted, hopping out of the Time Sphere. "I mean, it's not like a space ship… we were just traveling through time so it should just be a quick skip and a jump. But Prof. Stein's notes on the Waverider made it sound so cool!"

"That machine was vastly out of date compared to the sphere," Skeets reminded him. "I for one am glad we weren't in that metal death trap." The drone hovered around his friend's head. "Now then, what is the plan? Stop a few bank robberies? Save a princess? Stop a bank robbing princess?"

"Is there one of those?" Michael asked excitedly.

"I was being sarcastic."

"…oh." Michael shook his head and grabbed one of the duffle bags. "Anyway, you know what Green Arrow, The Flash, and Supergirl all had in common?"

"A love for leathery spandex?"

"Yes and a support team!" Michael declared. "Now, you are great, buddy, but you aren't support help… we're partners. Michael and Skeets! You got the data and I got the charm and body."

"I would say I have the body," Skeets said rather proudly. "The cash register in the food court was always eyeing me up."

Michael chuckled at that. "The point is that if we hope to have any success we need a team. People with brains who can do research, others with the brawn to back us up, and hopefully no one that wants to betray us. Barry Allen had enough of that for all of us. The problem is to have a support team we'll need a base."

"The Skeetscave."

"Why are we naming it after you?" Michael asked.

"Because I said it first."

"…fine. To have a Skeetscave… and all the equipment and gear we and our support team will need… we'll need cash. A lot of it." Michael grinned as he unzipped a dufflebag. "Now then… do me a favor and look at the FBI's Most Wanted List."

 _ **Now, you might have a bit of an issue with me stealing all my gear. But my point remains… if it is going to help people why not use it? Robin Hood style and all that. Some of us can't have government agencies that give us cool toys or a billionaire daddy or S.T.A.R. Labs fall into our laps. Have to make do with what we have. Nothing unethical about it at all!**_

The heavyweight drug kingpin sat by his pool, fanning himself while he watched two of his lovely ladies play in the water. The air was just warm enough to leave a fine sheen of sweat on his skin and he could tell his guards were hot in their suits but the man wasn't going to send them away. He'd worked hard, selling a lot of meth and coke to get to where he was now and he wasn't about to let it all slip from his fingers just because he got sloppy. No, his men could stand right there, guns at the ready, while he enjoyed the view-

VUZAAAU! VUZAAAU!

The drug lord blinked as his bodyguards were slammed into the wall behind him, knocked out cold thanks to two beams of golden energy. The fat man struggled to sit up only to gasp when a strong hand wrapped around his lapels of his shirt and hauled him up.

"Your days selling drugs to children end today!" Michael declared, a touch overly dramatically. "And what's this?" Michael reached down and grabbed a plastic tube the crook knew hadn't been there moments earlier. "It appears to be the Blucard painting that was reported destroyed last year… seems you had in actuality stolen it, criminal!"

"What?" the kingpin exclaimed. "Who the hell is Blu-"

Michael gave him a hard shake. "Deny it all you want but I have it all on tape. Isn't that right, Skeets!"

"Indeed, sir," the little gold drone declared, coming into view. "Sending it to the FBI now."

"And the museum! Finder's fee and all that." Michael grinned. "Should make for a nice downpayment!"

… _ **okay, so planting evidence at crime scenes and then collecting the Finder's Fee… that might be a touch unethical.**_

 _ **But hey! It's not like I'm doing it to good guys!**_

"Who's next?" Michael asked, once more at the Time Sphere with Skeets. A bag of cash sat next to him, the faces of dead Presidents looking up at Michael with smiles.

"Rodney Bloodhill. Lieutenant for the Spetelli Family." Skeets considered the choice for a moment. "I think he might like ancient Greek vases… like the one that was believed destroyed in an earthquake several years back in Starling."

 _ **And hey, I'm uncovering lost treasures! That has to stand for something!**_

Michael grunted as one of Bloodhill's triggermen opened fire with a machine gun. While the bullets harmlessly bounced off the forcefield his suit generated it was still annoying. Looking for something to take the man out Michael grabbed the first thing handy and gave it a toss, knocking the goon out.

"Michael, that was the Greek vase…" Skeets began.

"Damn it!" Michael complained. He walked over to Bloodhill, firing on a few more of his men and sending them flying before he got to the startled mobster, knocking him out with a punch. "Lay there for a moment! Skeets, can you replicate another vase?"

"Give me a few moments to get back to the Time Sphere, sir. But try and be careful… that is the fourth one so far!"

 _ **Okay, fine! So I might have taken the duplicator from the gift shop.**_

"What next, sir?" Skeets asked as Michael scrolled through the options.

"Let's do a Viking Shield! I always wanted one of those when I was a kid!"

 _ **They are lost items from history! Yeah, in my time they are just souvenirs you can get at the gift shop but in this time they are priceless… and people paid BIG for'em!**_

"We can't thank you enough!" the head of the Louvre said. He'd flown out special just to meet the man that had managed to locate one of Picasso's lost works. "But… why won't you tell us what your name is?"

"All in good time, sir, all in good time!" Michael said proudly before whispering, "and since I can't give out my name can you make the check out to CASH?"

… _ **don't give me that look.**_

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"We're nearly there, Skeets!" Michael said with a grin. The two of them were holed up in a rather nice hotel room (nothing overly fancy… no penthouse… but they weren't in a fleabag motel either) going over the cash they'd brought in over the last two weeks. "You've been investing it like I asked?" 

"Indeed," Skeets said. "I used a rather cunning strategy to pick the best stocks. Our money will be working for us for quite some time."

"What's the strategy?"

"Humans are always bored, hungry, and horny. Invest in those things and you can't go wrong."

"Kinda insulting to my species but I like the thought," Michael admitted.

"I am curious, however, as to why you haven't begun releasing your name to the public. I thought the whole point of our endeavor was to make names for ourselves."

"The point is to become famous heroes, Skeets," Michael stated. "And if there is one thing I understand it is branding. Studied a ton of it back in college and it's all about timing. I tell people who I am and they will just shrug their shoulders. But I build up an air of mystery and when I finally reveal that I am the new hero Gold Star they will-"

"That is a horrible name."

"…what?"

"Gold Star. Horrible name sir."

"No it isn't," Michael argued. "It is a great name! Look at my costume!"

"I am. Unlike you who has failed to notice that the star on your costume is blue, not gold." 

"…but Blue Star sounds really lame."

Skeets considered this. "Yes… even lamer than Gold Star, as shocking as that is."

There was a knock at the door and Michael stood up, wagging his finger at his friend. "It is an awesome name! And the world will love it when I reveal it! I'm just waiting for the right moment. Has to be something big, something amazing…" he opened the door and his grin fell when he saw it wasn't the hotel staff with his room service but rather a group of Secret Service Agents. "… if this is about the pay-per-view I totally plan to pay for it."

"We were told that you are the unnamed hero that has been finding lost treasures and taking down some of the most wanted men and women in the United States," the first agent asked.

"You have been told correct," Michael said slowly, a touch nervous. His time with the FBI had made him leery of men in suits and dark glasses.

The second agent reached into his suit jacket. "We have something for you..." Michael tensed, ready for the boom of a revolver or the swipe of a knife. Instead he ended up staring blankly as a crisp white envelope, the Presidential Seal stamped on the back flap. "A letter."

Michael quickly opened the envelope, careful not to rip it because it was so going in his scrapbook of heroic moments, and scanned the letter inside. "The President wants to meet me?"

"At a campaign rally planned for this Thursday in Ion City," the agent said. "He wants to publicly thank you for your retrieval of the George Washington Calvary sword."

"Oh yes..." Michael said, rubbing his chin and doing his best to look scholarly. "I remember that... a very difficult find but I was glad to retrieve the sword and allow it, at long last, to be treated with the dignity it deserved..."

~Six Days Earlier~

Michael leapt onto his bed, dressed in just the bottom part of his costume, swinging the Washington sword about, a lampshade on his head. "Avast ye Redcoats! I be George Washington! Come, Abraham Lincoln, let us battle these scurvy dogs!"

Skeets buzzed over, a little stovetop hat tapped to his shell. "I am not entirely for sure this is accurate."

~Present Day~

"Gentlemen, I am honored that the President would like me to appear at his campaign rally, but I must consider the ramifications of this... I wouldn't want to appear to be playing favorites. One moment." Michael shut the door and turned to Skeets. "Does he win?"

"Landslide victory," Skeets stated.

Michael opened the door back up and grinned. "But in this case I can completely back the President in his endeavor to be reelected." The agents merely nodded, mentioning that all the details were in the envelope, and went on their merry way, leaving one up-and-coming superhero dancing in his hotel room. "I'm gonna meet the President! I'm gonna meet the President!"

"I take it this is the 'big moment' you've been waiting for?"

"The biggest!" Michael exclaimed, grabbing Skeets and giving him a shake. "Think about it, buddy! President whips the crowd into a frenzy, they are all crying out for the newest mysterious hero to emerge, and then I fly down-"

"You still can't fly," Skeets reminded him.

"-and then I run in from wherever I was hiding, you buzzing over the crowd showing off your moves! We shake the President's hand, give a short speech, something patriotic yet tasteful, and then announce to all the reporters gathered that they can count on Ion City's newest hero: Gold Star!"

"...still a terrible name."

Michael ignored his robotic friend. "Things are finally shaping up, buddy! I think my luck has finally changed!"

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

The photo of Michael Jon Carter had been taped to the wall, the man from the future's winning smile on display as he waved to the crowd. A whistle filled the air and a letter opener embedded itself right in Photo Michael's forehead.

From behind an opulent desk that had been built from the stolen deck boards of the Titanic sat a man just as large and just as striking as that doomed ship. Heavy set with long stringy white hair and pale yellow-white skin, one could be excused for thinking the figure that was currently slurping oysters would have been a better fit in some travel circus' freak show. Of course one would never say this to the man's face; not just for common courtesy but also because the man could snap his fingers and see the jester murdered, their family sold into slavery, and their family dog butchered and laid out at his dinner table just in time for his evening meal. Dressed in comfortable silk bottoms and a loosely fitting undershirt he had no need to doll himself up in designer suits or expensive jewelry. No, this man had gotten to the top through strength of body and mind and now firmly perched at the top of the mountain; he felt little need to put on airs.

His trusted capos stood before him, their faces emotionless masks, while his consigliere stood at the ready to offer his advice. it didn't matter if said advice was on what to have for dessert once the crime lord finished his meal or the best way to flay a man alive... he would offer his employer whatever he wished.

"Who am I?" the albino finally asked.

"Steven Mandragora," his consigliere stated.

"And who is my uncle, my mother's brother, who put me in charge of the Detroit Chapter?"

"Tobias Whale, sir," his consigliere replied.

"Thank you, Paul." Mandragora set another oyster shell aside, glancing out of the corner of his eye at his capos. "My Uncle Tobias made me the man I am today. He saw in me the potential to rise up through the ranks and ensured that I was placed on the... fast track as it were... within our organization. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him... nothing. So when he called me this morning asking why one of my best drug runners had not only been beaten and captured by some buffoon in a gaudy spandex outfit but said buffoon had then claimed he found the Calvary sword of George Washington, the same sword that currently hangs in my Uncle's study, and was giving it to the Smithsonian... well, I found myself without answers. Thus, I must ask you... WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

The capos hardly flinched, far too used to their boss' tirades. They held their ground, their faces never once betraying the nervousness they felt, and waited for Mandragora to calm before one of them spoke.

"The runner has already been eliminated so there is no fear that he will talk," one capo finally stated. Mandragora's jaw twitched at this and the man quickly added, "Before he died he swore on the lives of his children that he'd never seen that sword... that this nameless hero pulled it out of seemingly nowhere and he was just as shocked by its appearance as the rest of us."

"It is clearly a fake," Paul stated. "This heroic buffoon is little more than a grifter using the trappings of a hero to pull quick cons."

Mandragora reached over and grabbed his wine glass, swirling the liquid as he considered his men. "And yet when I talked to the family's man inside the Smithsonian he swore that the sword was authentic. So our grifter is either quite talented or a magician." He took a sip of his wine. "Do you know why things have value? Because someone important says they are valuable and all the sheep hurry to nod their wooly little heads in agreement." He picked up an oyster shell. "If I told you this oyster shell was the most precious thing to me, that nothing on this Earth mattered to me more than it, you would all lay down your lives to protect it." He squeezed and shattered the shell into sharp little shards. "We all do it. Gold is little more than a shiny yellow rock. It is too soft to be much use and has had little practical use until the turn of the century. And yet for almost the entire span of human history we have fought and died for it... purely because enough people said it was worth something.

"When you have something of value and suddenly people proclaim it worthless it becomes just that. It doesn't matter the history or the legacy or even the honest truth... it is worthless. My Uncle's sword is little more than a decorative piece of rebar because that gold and blue buffoon GOT GREEDY!"

Mandragora stood up, towering over his capos, his red eyes blazing with rage. "I want him dead. I want him dead and I want him to suffer. I don't want him killed in his sleep or shot while he is leaving a movie... I want it to be grand and to send a message to any other thief or would-be hero that no one and I mean NO ONE messes with our family!" He sat back down and folded meaty hands under his chin. "Now... do I have a volunteer?"

One of the capos stepped forward, wiggling his fingers. "They say this man uses all manner of gadgets, Mister Mandragora. I would be honored if you allowed me to show him just how useless his trinkets were. It is what I was built to do." The other capos frowned at that, not quite sure why he'd chosen such an odd phrasing.

Mandragora considered him for a moment before nodding. "Very well. This nameless wonder is supposed to attend a rally with President Jurgens in two days... I believe that would be the perfect place to send our message." Mandragora paused, pursing his lips before idly twisting his hand about. "Oh, and if you can kill the President, please do so. I am so wearily tired of him interrupting 'Jane the Virgin' with his stupid addresses."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"What do you think of the turnout?" Skeets asked, hovering beside Michael. The two of them were sitting in a limo President Jurgens had provided, the Leader of the Free World having decided that it wouldn't do for the new hero to hide in a bush or duck into a tent and wait to be introduced to the crowd. Michael had been a bit embarrassed to admit he couldn't make a flashy entrance but the President had merely shrugged and said that he couldn't make one either so they'd both have to just walk up and shake hands with his supporters. It wouldn't be The Flash rushing in at the last moment or Green Arrow zipping down a zip line but it would have to do.

"It's big, Skeets… damn big," Michael said, fiddling with the cap from his water bottle.

"Michael, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"The crowd isn't frightening you, is it?"

Michael waved him off. "I've played in front of tens of thousands, Skeets." 

"But this is different, isn't it?"

"…yeah," Michael admitted.

The weight of that single word hung in the air.

The door opened. An agent peered in. Michael shoved his concerns away.

"It's time."

Up on the podium President Jurgens was about 5 minutes into his speech and like the grand politician he was he had everyone there eating out of his hand like calves at a petting zoo. They cheered at the right moments, grew silent when he needed to say something important, and the steady buzz in the air only grew more intense with each sentence. He was like a pianist in a jazz band, knowing when to go with the flow and when to strike out and try something new. Those in attendance were merely the black and ivory keys.

"Someone once said that those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I believe this. However how are we able to learn from history if we loss so much of it? Or should I say we've had so much stolen away? How much knowledge, how many lessons have been wiped away because of the greed of others? Priceless artifacts that belong to all of mankind… locked up in some rich man's attic purely so he can have bragging rights. It is a shame." He paused, letting that sink in. "But recently a new hero arose who said 'no'. He refused to allow history to disappear and be forgotten. This would be noble enough on its own but this man, this hero, also brought down the sick and depraved men that held onto these items. Men who pumped illegal drugs into our schools, filled our streets with violence, and got rich off careers of sin!" The crowd roared and booed at the same time and the President motioned for calm. "This hero has so far refused to give his name, preferring to work anonymously. But… perhaps if we cheer loud enough… he might be willing to open up." President Jurgens waved his hand and the crowd turned on mass to see Michael having already stepped out of the limo, Skeets at his side and a brilliant white smile flashing for all to see. "Let's give him an Ion City welcome!"

Michael waved as he made his way through the crowd, thankful for his suit's forcefield that prevented him from being crushed by the people that wanted to shake his hand and pat him on the back. He said a few token words while Skeets darting just out of reach of the crowd, all the while his focus on the President and the microphone that would change his life forever.

Perhaps it was this focus that allowed him to notice the Secret Service Agents grip their ears in pain seconds before their earpieces exploded. The President turned just as the speaker system he was standing near began to hiss and smoke.

"MOVE!" Michael roared, shoving his way through the crowd, pushing aside well-wishers like they were linemen going in for a blitz. He leapt onto the stage and tackled the President just as the speaker system exploded, the blast turning the cheers of the crowd into cries of terror. Michael had landed hard on the President but didn't have time to think of the ramifications of that act. Instead he was already up, his eyes darting about, using the same skills that had allowed him to find open receivers to now look for signs of danger…

…like a man in a crisp black suit calmly walk towards him, flicking out his hands and causing electronics to explode with a wave and a short zap of energy.

"Sir!" one of the few Secret Service agents still on his feet called out, hurrying over to the Commander-in-Chief. "Are you alright?"

"Yes… yes…" He looked at Michael. "You saved-"

"Get him out of here!" Michael barked, standing up and squaring his shoulders. "I'll hold him off." The agent nodded and quickly pulled the President away, leaving Michael and Skeets to stare down the would-be assassin. The man stopped, casually watching as the last of the crowd left the area, leaving the park empty save for himself, the two heroes, and a squirrel that had decided on the worst possible time to go looking for nuts. "Stop right there, assassin!" Michael said, puffing out his chest. "I don't know why you were trying to kill the President but you won't reach him now! Not with me standing in your way." 

The capo shrugged. "Fine by me. You're my main target anyway."

Michael's chest deflated a little. "Wait… really?"

"Yes," the capo declared. "My boss isn't happy with you. Sent me to… deal with you and send-"

"Aw man!" Michael whined. "My first major battle and it's against a guy in an expensive suit." He turned to Skeets and flapped his arms. "This sucks." He turned back to the assassin. "Do you at least have a cool name like Electivire?"

"I'm Frank," the capo said with a shrug. "And I think Electivire is a Pokémon."

"…I'm battling… a Frank." Michael ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "Okay then." He jumped down off the stage, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. "Listen Frank, I don't know what you were thinking coming here but this was kinda my big day and now I'm mad. So, sorry about this, but I'm going to punch you so hard your mom will feel it!" Michael cocked his fist and let the punch fly right into the capo's face.

CLANG!

Michael blinked, wiggling his fingers and then looking at the calm assassin's unblemished face.

"Uh…"

"Oh, was that all?" the capo said. "Or would you like another try?"

"Could I?" Michael asked.

"Be my guest."

"Thanks," Michael said, putting his full might into his next hit. The first had been at just above his natural strength, as he hadn't wanted to turn the guy's head into a red paste; wouldn't be very heroic, after all. Michael let out a roar as he swung…

CLANG!

Frank didn't even budge.

"You're not entirely human are you," Michael said slowly.

"Nope," Frank said with casually. "By the way, thanks for staying so close." The capo held up his hand, the skin on his palm swirling away to reveal a small metallic hole. "Allowed me to figure out the frequency of your gadgets and adjust accordingly."

The blast took Michael by surprise, the blond hero crying out as the electromagnetic pulse raced through his body and his suit. The HUD on his goggles flickered off, the forcefield shut down, his blasters became little more than fancy gloves, and the suit itself turned off all of the strength-enhancers. Frank smiled before he grabbed Michael by the throat and tossed him clear across the park, the hero's body bouncing as he sailed across the road before he came to a stop against the entrance to the KORD Industries' Ion City Headquarters.

"Ow," Michael moaned.

"Don't worry, I have him!" Skeets proclaimed, rushing Frank. "Prepare to taste the wrath of Skeets!"

Frank caught the little drone with one hand, considering him for a moment.

"…prepare for the second taste of the wrath of-"

Frank hurled Skeets like he was a shotput, sending him flying across several blocks.

"Hey!" Michael said with a groan, dragging himself up. He was pretty sure he'd broken several bones and his ears were ringing so bad he couldn't even hear his own whimpers of pain. "He has my room key!" Frank continued to march towards Michael and the time traveler frantically began to fiddle with his gauntlets, trying to get power back on. The EMP hadn't fried his system, luckily, but it had caused it to shut down. Which shouldn't have even been possible but Michael didn't have time to figure that mystery out. A little icon appeared on his goggles, informing him that systems were slowly coming back online and everything would be back to normal in 2 minutes.

Unfortunately it only took 1 minute for Frank to reach him.

"Listen," Michael said, hoping to buy for time, "maybe this is a big mistake. I mean… must be a ton of handsome guys who dress up like this. I bet you meant to attack the guy in the blue and gold suit that lives in St. Roch!"

"Is he the one claiming to have found the sword that belongs to my boss' uncle?"

Michael's mouth formed a little 'o' before he smiled sheepishly. "Okay, this is a funny story. Seriously, you are going to laugh when you hear it, it's a knee slapper. See, the one I gave them-"

And that's when Frank began punching him.

 _ **We all know where this ends up.**_

Michael slammed into the building before toppling to the ground, his legs twisted at odd angles and a bit of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He looked up through his cracked visor and watched as the man who was currently tossing him around like a sack of flour slowly walked up to him, taking a moment to adjust his tie. Michael felt like he'd been run over by a bus and yet this asshole didn't even have a wrinkle in his pants. He raised his arm, ready to fire a blast from the blaster mounted on the back of his right hand, only for the goon in the 1000 buck suit to hit him with another EMP blast that had left his costume little more than overly fancy circus attire. The thug smirked, the charge dying from his hand and he slowly lifting Michael up by the hair, which hurt just about as much as you'd expect, and popped him in the stomach.

 _ **So there you have it, the start and end of my superhero career. Some heroes die saving the planet. I'm bleeding out internally because I pissed off a mobster. Yup… just another brilliant chapter in the life of Michael Jon Carter.**_

Frank pulled Michael in close, shaking his head at the sight of the man. His costume was torn, his body was hanging limp, and he looked like he'd been run over by a steamroller… twice. It was rather pitiful.

"Do yourself a favor, would ya? Just stop fighting me and let go. You're never going to win, you're never going to amount to anything… know when to give up, okay?"

 _ **But… here's the thing. I was wrong about what makes a great hero. See, it isn't the costume or name or the powers or even the entrance. All those greats, like Green Arrow and Flash and Supergirl and Atom and all the rest… they were told they couldn't do something. They were told to just be normal, to just accept their lots in life.**_

 _ **And they said no.**_

 _ **People have been telling me to stop doing things my way and just listen to them for years.**_

 _ **I'm done listening.**_

Michael growled and, with the last of his strength, swung wildly at Frank with his right hand.

Unfortunately he missed.

Fortunately the momentum of his punch sent him flying through the air till he came to a stop 30 feet about Rapmund Street.

The time traveler and Frank both stared at each other, both startled by this turn of events. Michael broke eye contact first, looking down at the Legion Flight Ring on his finger. Skeets' words echoed in his head: only a select few could use the ring. Only those who were worthy.

Michael smirked.

And his smile grew bigger as his suit finally booted back online.

The nanites in the suit got to work, repairing the damage done both to the garment and to its owner. Michael hid a wince as they streamed into his open wounds, repairing the breaks and tears, causing swelling to go down and his organs to actually begin working again. It was something he didn't want to ever feel again and honestly he didn't know how healthy it was to activate that failsafe but at the moment it was exactly what he needed. He felt the hum of his forcefield kick back on and the charge of his gauntlets as they powered up. The HUD in his goggles flickered to life, giving him all the readings he needed. Michael looked down at Frank and aimed his right arm like it was a canon.

"Don't dump the Gatoraide out just yet, Frankie… still fourth quarter and I got the ball."

"…what?" Frank said a second before Michael fired on him, the blast hitting him right in the chest and causing his fancy suit to shred like a paper napkin from a Tim Horton's. The capo moved to fire back but Michael was already zipping away, silently gliding through the air, weaving about like a demented firefly, taking pot shots at his attacker as he did so. Michael had quickly got the hang of flying and began to get a bit more daring, using his old 'turn on a dime' misdirect moves from his playing days to keep Frank from hitting him.

"Not so tough when the target doesn't sit still!" Michael called out. A crowd was slowly beginning to gather, the public no longer screaming in terror now that the hero they'd come out to see was not only winning but actually flying without a jetpack or wings. Frank, seeing that they had an audience, sent a blast of energy at a few people who'd gotten a touch too close but Michael dove down, firing his own blast of energy, getting in a beam struggle with the grunting capo. "Back up!" Michael shouted, all false bravado gone and in its place something much more genuine and real. The people did as they were told and he began to slowly push his way forward… and in doing so send the pulse of energy Frank was trying to send it right back at him. Michael grunted as he pushed with all his might, slowly inching forward.

"You… you think you can stop me?" Frank growled, rapidly losing his cool.

"No," Michael said with a grin before glancing at Frank's right. "But maybe he can." Frank turned but saw nothing…

Letting Skeets zip in from the left and activate his stun gun, firing several zaps to the man's metal skull.

Frank, on instinct, reached up to protect his face only to receive a taste of his EMP blast for his trouble. It didn't take him down, as he was immune to it, but it did allow Michael to move in close, tackling the suited capo and lifting him in the air. Michael launched himself about 20 feet before hefting the big man over his head and sending him slamming down right in front of Kord Industries, creating a nice impact crater. Frank moaned, looking up just in time to see Michael take aim with both his blasters and fire on him, causing an explosion of light. When it finally dimmed it was clear to all Frank wasn't getting back up again.

The crowd broken into thunderous cheers.

The next 20 minutes were a whirlwind for Michael and Skeets. People shaking his hands, patting him and Skeets as they passed, women wanting him to sign their large… tracts of land. He moved through it in a daze, glad that Skeets was recording everything so he could view it again and again at a later date. Finally he found himself once more standing on the battered but still standing platform, President Jurgens waving off his security detail as he shook Michael's hand.

"I can't thank you enough! If it weren't for you that assassin would have killed me. You risked your life to protect me and I won't forget that."

"Actually," Skeets piped up, "the man stated he was after-"

"You the entire time!" Michael said, giving Skeets a dirty look.

"Oh… yes. Of course. He just didn't bargain on us being there. In fact he even bemoaned that the great Skeets and his partner were here to stop him." 

"…right," Michael said, clenching his teeth in a forced grin.

President Jurgens clapped his hand on Michael's shoulder. "Son, by tomorrow the world is going to know what you did here and the disaster you averted. I know you wanted to keep things quiet and private-" Skeets made a sound that sounded oddly like coughing, "-but I'm afraid that is out the window. The world needs to know the name of its new hero...er... heroes."

"Well, I am Skeets," the drone stated. "And this…" he turned, as did the President, and the hero realized even the crowd had grown silent, wanting to hear his answer.

Michael took a deep breath. This was his moment. The moment that would define him, that would set him forever in the pages of history. It was his grad introduction into the Golden Age of Heroes. With the weight of this monumental moment pressing on him he squared his shoulders and spoke.

"Booster."

He froze, his mind grinding to a halt as he realized he'd given his old college nickname instead of his carefully chosen superhero identity.

"Gold!" He added. "Uh, that is-"

"Booster… Gold," Jurgens considered this before smiling in approval. "I like it. Original… different. Rolls off the tongue but also makes you think about it. And it's not on the nose… was afraid you were going to call yourself the Something-Star."

Michael chuckled weakly. "Right… never would do that." He glanced at Skeets and though the drone couldn't visually show his emotions he knew his friend was smirking.

"Well then, Booster Gold… let's introduce you to the world." The President pushed Michael forward, the blond hero smiling as the crowd cheered his new name.

 _ **My name is Michael Jon Carter and I was born in the 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **century. When my life hit the skids I came to the 21**_ _ **st**_ _ **century to take my place among the greatest heroes the world has ever known. Now, with the help of my robotic ally Skeets, I protect Ion City from those that wish to harm it. In the future I was a failure… in the past I will be a hero… though not like any hero you've ever seen. I am… BOOSTER GOLD**_

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"Booster! Booster! Booster!"

Steven Mandragora threw his wine glass at the TV, the screen cracking but still playing the images from Ion City. His capos and consigliere looked out, a bit more nervous than they'd been a day earlier, and Mandragora glared at them in contempt.

"You all told me he was nothing more than a costumed buffoon with delusions of grandeur!" He waved at the screen that showed Frank being taken apart by the new hero. "DOES THAT LOOK LIKE A PUSHOVER!"

"He… he never showed that he could fly, sir," Paul said. Mandragora whipped around to stare at him and the consigliere swallowed before continuing. "None of us expected any of that… clearly our… information was outdated. A mistake, nothing more."

"Nothing more?" Mandragora hissed. "Nothing more? He made a fool of us. The damn Secret Service now has one of my 100 Soldiers! Millions in turn Frank into a living weapon lost because YOU IDIOTS COULDN'T DO SOME DAMN RESEARCH!" He trembled, the veins in his forehead pulsing as he looked at them all with contempt. "Get out… get out before I kill you all! Get-"

A yellow blur swirled around the room, red lightning crackling as it weaved through Mandragora's most trusted men. Within the span of three seconds the eight capos fell to the ground, their necks snapped so violently their heads had been twisted 180 degrees. Paul backed away in fright at the vibrating yellow demon that stood now before Mandragora, his crimson eyes flickering with contempt.

" _You were given one job_ ," the Reverse-Flash stated coldly. _"Why does Booster Gold still live?"_

It was Mandragora's turn to swallow nervously. "I… made a mistake. Trusted the wrong man. It won't happen again."

" _See that it doesn't,"_ Reverse-Flash said before zipping over and grabbing the mobster's left wrist, twisting it until the albino howled in pain. _"Every moment he remains here, in this part of the timeline, he threatens not only our work but my existence. I will not be erased again because you couldn't kill Michael Jon Carter!"_

"It… it will be done," Mandragora whimpered.

Reverse-Flash nodded, releasing his grip only to turn as a time vortex opened up in front of them. _"I know. But just in case the Legion has decided to leave our Enforcer here… to ensure that you stay on task."_

From the portal emerged a figure in a full body suit, mostly which with red boots and gloves and a blue cowl and cape. There was no mouth hole or even a hint of human flesh; even the eyes were a glowing yellowish white that seemed to burn the souls of any that looked directly at them. Upon the figure's chest was a circle with a four-pointed star, the bottom point an elongated tail that flashed with the same sickly light.

" _You know your task, Supernova. Booster Gold cannot be allowed to become a hero. He must not merely die… but die in such a way that he is forever forgotten, remembered only as a failure! Mandragora has been tasked with this… he has failed once."_

Supernova nodded, holding out his hand. Paul screamed as the masked man fired on him, turning him to dust. **"Booster Gold will die, my master,"** he hissed.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

NEXT TIME ON BOOSTER GOLD!

With his big reveal to the world Michael begins to set up his support team and his new base for his heroic work. But that is easier said than done and he is finding it hard to get the right crew in to assist him and Skeets. Worse, his battle with Frank has attracted unwatched attention from the young Heir of the Kord Family Dynasty, Ted Kord.

Maybe it's a good thing that Mandragora has sent the next member of his 100 Soldiers, the man known simply as Shockwave, to crush Booster Gold into dust.

Is Michael's career as a hero about to end just as it begins?

Find out next time in 'Kobayashi Maru'


	2. Episode 2- Kobayashi Maru

Last time on BOOSTER GOLD!

 _ **Michael Jon Carter, rookie quarterback in the 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **century, lost his chance at stardom when he worked with his father to bet on games. By the time he was 29 Michael found himself working at the Flash Museum, his only companion a security droid named Skeets. Inspired by the acts of heroes like The Flash, Green Arrow, and Supergirl, Michael stole equipment from the museum and along with Skeets traveled to the 21**_ _ **st**_ _ **century to become a hero. Planting replicated lost artifacts in the homes of mobsters he defeats, Michael built up the money he would need to start his new career while also gaining the attention of both the President of the United States and mobster Steven Mandragora. When Mandragora sent his cyborb enforcer Frank to eliminate Michael our hero managed to defeat the mandroid and was dubbed Booster Gold by the President. But while Michael lived up his first major heroic act Mandragora faced down his mysterious benefactor: The Reverse-Flash. Angered by Mandragora's failure Thrawne leaves his Enforcer, the mysterious Supernova, to ensure Michael never becomes a hero and Booster Gold's name fades from history.**_

 _Hub City- Kord Industries National Headquarters_

David Kord leaned against the padded wall of the private gym, a small frown on his lips. He was a thin man with sharp features and just one glance at him told all that he was a man used to getting what he wanted. Not because it was expected or even demanded but through sheer force of will. He would never be called charismatic or be seen as one of those charming billionaires that appeared on reality shows and threw giant New Years bashes. David wasn't a miser either; he didn't sit in some cold office, cackling over the plight of his workers. He was quite simply a stern man, a man with the would to bring what he desired to reality. When he wanted people to do something they did it... be it out of respect, fear, or a mingling of the two.

All save the young man that was currently twirling upon the uneven bars.

The acrobat was just on the cusp of 30, half of David's age but possessing all his brains. But where David was intimidating the younger man was friendly and outgoing. Even as he leapt from the lower bars and twisted, his blue unitard a blur before he reached out and grasped the high bar, David could see the smile on his face.

The owner and CEO of Kord Industries didn't know if he hated that smile or respected it.

"What would your little science geeks say if they could see you flipping around like this?" David asked.

The younger man laughed, slowing his spins until he was merely dangling from the uneven bars. "They would roll their eyes, Uncle." He dismounted and walked over to the chalk bag, tossing it a few times from hand to hand until his palms were covered in the white powder. "Today it is the in thing to be a nerd and be scrawny and weak. 20 years ago you were mocked for it. A hundred years ago it was unheard of. People forget many great scientists were also great athletes. They understood that the body and the mind are linked." Flexing his muscles not for show but to loosen up the young man moved to the pommel horse and began his routine. "We did not become the dominate species because we sat around debating the merits of spear chucking in a cave. Nor did we succeed purely through their fists. Survival of the fittest... that refers to the body and the mind. Too many people forget that."

"Hmmm," David murmured, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his nephew. "I suppose you know why I'm here, Ted?"

The young man, Ted Kord, didn't even pause for a second as he continued to whip his legs and body about the pommel horse. "I suppose you have another brilliant plot to cement me as your successor?"

David scoffed. "Cement nothing. I have told you that you WILL be the one to take over Kord Industries when I pass."

"Can I ask why?" Ted asked. "I'm not joking... as shocking as that is. I don't want to be the Big Shot... you know that. Al has been fighting for years to get you to name him your heir and if you don't want him you could always go with Simon. They're both older... they have a better claim."

"Only fools decide on successors based on age and blood," David snapped as Ted finished up his routine. "I know the uses of your brothers and they are few. Simon is your father reborn and could never handle the power. He is best suited as a second, nothing more. Al would waste it like a gambler with a few coins in his pocket. He sees power as his birthright and demands it like a child wanting their bottle. But you… you shun power, refuse it when freely offered… and when the time comes and you have no choice but to accept it you will be wise enough to know how to use it." 

"…am I becoming a CEO or a Jedi?" Ted joked. His uncle merely stared at him and Ted finally rolled his eyes. "Okay, so what scheme have you come up with this time to mold me into the perfect successor?"

His uncle snagged the Ipad he'd set near the door, switching it on and passing it to his nephew, who'd just got done wiping his hands clean of the chalk. "I'm assuming you've seen the news?"

Ted looked down at the Ipad, watching the video of Booster Gold saving the President's life from some sort of cyborg. "Even if I didn't want to," Ted stated. "They're flashing this guy's face so much online you'd think he were a Kardashian." Ted glanced at his uncle. "The Kardashians-"

"I know who they are, you twit."

"I've gone from successor to twit in the span of two minutes. A banner day, huh uncle?" Ted wiggled his eyebrows before finally focusing on the Ipad. "So what's the problem? Mad they ruined a few stone blocks outside our building? I'm pretty sure I asked our insurance guy to get us 'Superhero Insurance'… you know, just in case. Covers fire, flood, ice… whatever gun is being shot at our building…"

David coldly jabbed his finger at the Ipad. "A week ago the world changed once again. Cities have been threatened, the impossible has occurred, but never have any of these… events… occurred with the world watching live let alone to one of the most powerful men on the planet. In the span of half an hour we not only saw just how dangerous this world has become but that there are those with the strength to stand up to such threats and beat them down. Booster Gold is now a household name and our family," he tapped the screen, stopping it so Ted could stare at the image of Booster standing in front of the Kord Industries' sign, "is tied to him."

"…and that's a good thing? Bad?"

"That depends on just what kind of hero this Booster Gold turns out to be." David took the Ipad from Ted's grasp. "Already he is proving himself different from the Flash and the Green Arrow. While those two prefer to remain hidden Booster Gold has stepped out into the light. He openly admits he exists, he is setting up an actual corporation to handle his affairs… intelligent thinking."

"So he's making so extra pocket change selling shirts of himself?" 

"Do you realize just how much money is made off the Flash's lightning bolt symbol alone?" David asked. "Calling it pocket change is calling our company a kiosk at the mall." The businessman clasped one hand behind his back and began to pace. "There are reports that he is seeking out companies to 'sponsor' him, to donate equipment to aid in his crime fighting duties. He is seeking out employees to work for him. He has a publicist and from what I've heard he's managed to get Bernard Klein away from the Mayo Clinic to serve as his private physician… the man is privatizing hero work."

"So he's going to be the Halliburton of superheroes," Ted said dryly. "Goodie."

"What do you think of when you hear the name 'S.T.A.R. Labs'?" David asked.

"Particle Accelerator first," Ted stated. "Second is The Flash. We know he's connected to them, rumor is they work with him." 

"Indeed," David said. "Two years ago S.T.A.R. Labs' name was a joke. Now they are seen in a heroic light and are once again gathering the interest of donors. Their new owner, Bartholomew Allen, is going to be a VERY rich man. Now, what do you think of when you hear 'Palmer Technologies'?"

"…are they even still in business?" Ted asked.

"Exactly. Ignoring that their founder is dead and his replacement proved herself so incompetent that even Ray Palmer's boot lickers turned on his chosen successor they, and before them Queen Consolidated which now makes up a large bulk of Palmer Tech, have been the target of so many attacks that it is a wonder they are insured.

"I am reassigning you to our offices in Ion City. I have been vastly unimpressed with the work done by O'Jeneus; he is a brilliant engineer but the man can't manage his way out of a paper bag. You're taking over and turn things around."

"Might I point out that I'm also a brilliant engineer and maybe it would be better to keep me in a lab than in an office? No? Okay."

David continued on. "While the business is a priority, of course, you will also be there to evaluate Ion's new hero. If Booster Gold is the hero he is portraying himself to be then I want you to see just what Kord Industries can offer him… and he can offer us."

"And if he is just some glory hog that got really lucky?"

David smiled for the first time since he'd walked in. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something… creative to do with him." Ted quirked an eyebrow at that but his uncle merely made his way to the door. "Get dressed… I want you there by tomorrow."

"Love you too!" Ted called out, rolling his eyes.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"Skeets, do you see them?"

The golden drone was flying a few meters away from Booster, who was scanning the tangled mess that was Ion's financial district. Below them sirens were still blaring but the cops simply couldn't keep up with the heroic duo or the bank robbers that had gotten a 8 minute head start on Ion City's boys in blue. Booster had been ready to make a dive towards the car when they'd made a U-Turn into one of the underground tunnels that littered the city, losing the hero and his robotic partner and leaving them frantically searching for them.

"I'm scanning now," Skeets stated. "The car they stole has a telematic device installed for insurance purposes. I've determined the signal and I'm working to track it."

Booster, realizing there was nothing he could do, moved into a hover, looking around the streets for any speeding cars. "Who the hell robs a bank nowadays? I mean, come on… next we'll have to rescue some woman from a monorail track while a guy with a long moustache watches up rubbing his hands together." 

"Perhaps it's not best to debate the strategy of men who rob banks in broad daylight," Skeets said before twisting to his right. "They are attempting to hide in an offshoot of lower Giffin Street. We'll have to retrieve them."

"Right," Booster said, a determined grin on his face. "Well, they might be lame but-"

BUZZABUZZ! BUZZABUZZ!

The smile instantly fell from his lips.

"Brie?" Booster said, a flick of his eyes causing the comm in his goggles to turn on. He forced his voice to be a bit cheerier than he felt as he went into a dive. "Can this wait? Kinda in the middle of something."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it simply can't," his assistant said, the boredom practically dripping from her words. "Dr. Klein would like to schedule an appointment with you."

"…then do it," Booster said as he entered the tunnel, Skeets following on his heels.

"When would be a good time for you?" Brie asked.

"I don't know, what does my calendar say?"

"Hmmm… not sure."

"Not sure? You're the one that makes my calendar, just pick a day!" Skeets turned towards one of the tunnels and Booster nodded in silent agreement.

"I'd prefer if you just told me, sir. Also, the painters want to know if they can begin painting now."

"Yes, of course," Booster said quickly.

"Very good. I'll tell them to wait till you get back so you can tell them." 

"Just tell them yourself!" Booster complained.

"I don't have the authority to do that."

Booster's face twisted in annoyance. "I am giving you the authority."

"I'm not sure you have the authority to do that."

"…I'm the head of the company!" Booster shouted. He heard a click and looked up just as the van the bank robbers turned on its tail lights… and opened its back door to reveal three of the robbers standing there in black ski masks, wielding a- "Why do they have a chain gun!?" Booster screamed, his forcefield flaring up as the criminals opened fire.

"The painters, sir? I wasn't aware they had one."

Booster's left eyebrow twitched even as the bullets pounded against his forecfield. "Brie?"

"Yes sir?"

"Please go find the termination paperwork. I think I'll be firing someone when I get back."

"Do you want me to stay on the line?" his soon to be former assistant asked.

The bank robbers stopped shooting, staring at Booster in confusion; the blue-and-gold clad hero was just standing there, hands on his hips as he argued with seemingly no one. "No, you can hang up."

"I'll just put you on hold," Brie said.

"Do not put me on-"

"CLICK! _Snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen. A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I'm the queen._ "

Booster slowly turned to stare at Skeets. "Who decided to make the hold music-"

"I believe it was you," Skeets said, cutting him off. The drone's metal shell had been designed to take far worse than a 21st century bullet though the 'ting-ting-ting' of the bullets bouncing off of his form had been a touch annoying. "When Miss Brie asked you what she should play when putting people on hold you said, and I quote, "It can be the soundtrack from Frozen for all I care". It appears she took you for your word."

Booster glowered before turning towards the bank robbers. "I'm going to work out some of my anger issues. You stay here."

"Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"…permission to sing along?"

"…fine."

Skeets made the sound of one clearing their throat even as Booster began marching towards the van, his eyes blazing with annoyed fury while the criminals hastily began reloading their gun. "Let it go! Let it go!" Skeets sang as Michael ripped the offending weapon out of the van, tossing it aside before he set about tossing the criminals about like ragdolls.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

An hour later and Michael Jon Carter landed in his unfinished office and ripped off his goggles, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Skeets flew in a few seconds later, still humming with the song though a look from Booster saw the little drone quickly clam up.

Sitting on a plush couch, going over some marketing graphs, was a tall 40-something man with a lean face and bushy moustache who was wearing a white dress shirt and slacks. Spotting the hero the man stood up and offered him a water bottle.

"Bad day Booster?" the man asked.

"Depends, Dirk" Michael said, taking a long swig. "Crime fighting wise… real well. Caught a gang of bank robbers that were packed way more heat than they should have been."

"Well, it isn't an epic supervillain battle but sometimes it is nice to have an easy day. I'm sure the public prefers you handling the occasional common criminal instead of turning their city into a battleground with whatever lunatic decided to dress up like a panda bear and ride around in a bamboo tank."

"Yeah I… wait. Is there really a panda-based villain?"

"No."

"Oh," Michael said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Dirk chuckled, clapping him on the back. "Though, now that I think about it, a Panda villain would be pretty cool for the kids. Always hard to legally produce action figures based on actual villains but nothing says we can't make up our own… strictly for the toyline, of course! I'll call up Mattel and get them to work on it. Now, what has you upset?" Michael looked over at Brie's desk which was now cleared of all her personal affects and Dirk gave him a sympathetic shrug. "I was listening in and figured it would be better to just get her out of here before you showed up."

"Thanks, Dirk," Michael told the man. He looked around the unfinished floor and let out another sigh. The walls weren't painted, only half the furniture had arrived, and they'd only go the WiFi set up two days ago. "We're nowhere near ready, though. I don't have a full staff hired, my headquarters is still a mess, the offices are half done… how does Curtis Holt manage to do all this?"

"Who?"

Skeets quickly chimed in. "Just someone Michael read about… a minor businessman." Dirk accepted this and ambled a few steps away, allowing Skeets to whisper, "Curtis Holt hasn't even founded Cyberwear yet."

"Right," Michael said before saying louder, "It just feels like there are too many things coming at me at once. I'm setting all this up and fighting crime and fielding a billion different things…" He took another long hard swig from the water bottle. "Even half the hires I've made so far don't feel right. Brie was a ditz, I'm not happy with who we got to run the science division… other than you and Bernie I feel like firing everyone and starting over again… or opening an ice cream shop."

"That would make me happy," Bernie said as he walked into Michael's public office. The new head of BG International's medical division was in his mid 50s, balding, with a personality that was a mix of the Nutty Professor and a kindly grandfather. While some scoffed at his casual nature the man was a genius when it came to the body and one of the greatest medicinal professionals in the world. It had taken a lot of meetings and pleading to get Bernie Klein to pull up stakes and hitch his wagon to his star. Already the man was getting his division into working shape and Michael was thrilled that, at the very least, one part of his company was actually working as he'd envisioned. "I love soft serve personally." Klein motioned for Michael to remove his costume's top. "Let me take a look at you… I hear you were shot at." 

"Forcefield absorbed all the impacts," Michael complained. Though he'd brought Bernie in to be a division head the man had decided he was his personal physician and demanded to look him over after every outing.

"And you can still die if you get shot wearing a Kevlar vest. Your forcefield might be stronger but let an old man worry and look you over." Michael did as asked, removing his cowl and top and hopping up onto Brie's empty desk, allowing Bernie to begin looking him over. "I see your wounds from your battle with the cyborg are fully healed."

"Like I said they would. The nanites-"

"Aren't doctors. They are little robots that are programmed to do a job. I don't care how advanced they are, that is always risky. If I can get you patched up without ever having to use them again then I'll be happy." He looked at Skeets. "And no offense, my little friend, but what is to stop the nanites from being hacked so that they might, I don't know, turn you inside out?"

"Nothing," Skeets said before Michael could speak. "If someone could get to them, of course…"

"And there you go. Now, why do you want to open an ice cream shop?"

Michael hissed as Bernie ran his much-too-cold hands along his naked abs. "Because it feels like my company is in tatters."

"You're just starting," Dirk said, trying to reassure his client. "Things will be fine! You can manage."

"Him?" Bernie asked. "That's the problem, Dirk: he's taking too much on. You need to delegate." 

"To who?" Michael asked. "You? Dirk? One of you want to be my Chief Operations Officer?"

"God no," both men said at the same time.

"And thus my problem," Michael complained as Bernie moved on to inspect Michael's back. "I can't find anyone else I trust to handle everything and thus have to do it myself. But I'm not suited for any of this… I openly admit that! I'm supposed to be going out fighting Deathstroke, not micromanaging a bunch of people in cubicles." Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's just… I don't know if I'll ever be able to get things together."

"Please don't worry, Michael," Skeets said, hovering over. "I am sure that things will work out in the end."

"I hope so Skeets, I hope so."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

 _Somewhere in the Pennsylvania Wilderness…_

"The 100 was my idea, you know," Steven Mandragora said casually as he casually walked through the hall of his mansion, passing by paintings worth thousands and sculptures that had gone 'missing' from museums and private collections across the globe. "Too many in my business want to see things remain the same. We use the names and titles that have been passed down for centuries and the structure of our families remains the same as it did back in the old country. Yes, our business ventures evolve but the basic model remains the same. How we handle threats to our families and our wealth remains the same. "Why change now?" so many ask. "It has worked in the past and it works today so why throw good money away?" So small minded."

Mandragora paused, considering a painting that depicted Jupiter throwing a thunderbolt at a group of selfish, blasphemes humans. "My uncle can trace his lineage back to the times of Roman, when man believed that storms were the work of the gods. What kept many in line in those primitive days was the believe that there were these all powerful, all seeing beings that could deliver justice upon those that committed crimes against them with a merely flick of their hands. As man grew out of such childish thinking some realized that the only thing holding them back was their own imaginary boundaries. And then a select few decided that if the gods weren't real then their positions of power were up for the taking. One merely had to extend their hand and the lightning would be theirs. This is how things have gone for centuries.

"But now the pendulum swings back. The gods are real… but instead of togas they wear spandex. But the lightning bolts they hurl… oh, they are the same as the ones grasped by Jupiter." Mandragora smiled as he stared at the white-bearded Jupiter. "Thus we come to another opportunity… to continue on as we always have or to seize this moment. I have chosen the second. If those that seek to dethrone us now are 'super' so too most we become su-"

An otherworldly screech filled the air and the painting, along with much of the wall, was reduced to melting sludge.

Supernova lowered his fist. **"You were not hired to wax poetically and I'm not here to listen to your pathetic gibberish."**

"Yes," Mandragora said, a bit less confident, "of course. As I was getting to… The 100 project has seen me collect all manner of assassins, killers, thieves, and other manner of criminals and bring them into my service. Some are merely gifted men and women, mortal as myself or… " he made to point at Supernova but the masked Enforcer merely stared him down and Mandragora thought better of it, "…myself. Others have abilities, be they blessings from the Particle Accelerator or some other event. Each has a specialized purpose and much as one selects the correct gun for a killing I too select the correct member of my 100 to see a mission completed. Of course, the equipment and knowledge our employers have been kind enough to supply has only made them all the more deadlier."

" **And who have you selected this time?"** Supernova asked, a mocking edge to his words.

Mandragora ignored the taunt, leading Supernova into a sitting room where the selected criminal was waiting. The man was dressed in dark blue body armor with copper pads upon his arms, chest, and knees. A heavy domed helmet sat on the table next to him. His gauntlets and boots were also made of thick copper and had circuitry running throughout them. The man had a thick neck and large fleshy face with a wide nose and small grim mouth that was currently pressed into a thin line.

"Allow me to present Arnold Pruett. He used to run one of my construction companies during the day and at night he… well, let's just say when someone felt they didn't need to pay their debts he gave them a visit."

 **"You beat them until they paid,"** Supernova stated, not beating around the bush. **"And this serves us how? Do you believe the Legion is in need of a gaudily dressed kneecapper?"**

The mob boss smirked. "Using the data stolen from Palmer Industries my scientists were able to produce Mr. Pruett's armor. Add into this the tech specs the Legion provided and Mr. Pruett is a walking tank who can manipulate vibrations. He can bring down a building or liquefy someone's brains inside their skull."

The masked Enforcer for the Legion of Doom looked Pruett over. " **Will you be able to kill Booster Gold?"**

"That depends," Pruett said and Mandragora shot an angry glare at him for that answer. The look disappeared with the killer's next words. "Does Ion City need to be still standing when I'm done?"

" **He'll do,"** Supernova said. **"What do you call him? Or is he another 'Frank'."**

Mandragora grinned, his teeth gleaming as he said, "Shockwave."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

The next day found Michael still with no assistant, a mountain of papers he had to go over, and a brand new headache to deal with.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Michael asked, staring at his laptop. He was dressed in a cream-colored dress shirt and slacks, his legion flight ring and force field belt the only parts of his costume he visibly wore. He'd only gone to his living quarters (which were in the bowels of the newly rechristen Haylcon Tower) to shower and try and get some sleep but his mind had been to active and after a few hours he'd taken the private elevator back up to the main office and begun tackling all the work that still needed to be done. Forms to fill out, requests to go over, interviews to schedule… it was almost enough to make him long for the museum.

Almost.

At the moment he was sitting with Dirk, his public relations officer going through a binder filled with t-shirt designs. While Michael had been able to get started by selling off some antiques he knew he couldn't rely on that little cash cow forever and thus had begun phase two: merchandising. T-shirts, posters, action figures… people were currently hungry for all this Superhero and Michael planned to take full advantage. Not just of himself but of all the new heroes; Dirk was very close to obtaining rights to the Flash's look and Michael had plans for Superclothing… once the world got a glimpse of the Maid of Might.

Unfortunately what should have been a fun morning discussing slapping his logo on hoodies had been ruined by what was currently on his screen.

"Who?" Dirk asked before holding up a picture of a shirt for Skeets to look at. "Too dark?"

"Too dark," Skeets agreed.

"This… guy. This guy who's decided he's my arch enemy or something."

Dirk perked up at that. "You already have one? Usually takes a few months for some loony to declare themselves the new Big Bad."

"Big Bad? Really?" Michael asked.

"It's from Buffy. Very popular, trope-friendly. So, what is this guy's power?"

The hero leaned back in his chair and turned his laptop around so Dirk could look at it. Skeets, for his part, merely got a visual on the address and downloaded the page directly. "Busting my chops, apparently." 

Dirk frowned, looking over the website. "'Booster Gold… Secret Supervillain or Unwitting Illuminati Pawn'. Not that catchy of a title."

"It doesn't matter what the title is!" Michael complained. "This guy is claiming I'm either some sinister monster who is plotting to destroy Ion City or that I'm being used by an evil cabal to further their goals."

"To be fair the article below yours discusses the dangers of the little plastic things at the ends of shoelaces and how they connect to the occult."

"So he's the local quack," Dirk said, brushing off Michael's concerns. "Every hero has them. Green Arrow has half his city wanting him gone and you still find people who are angry the Flash keeps breaking their windows whenever he does his sonic boom run by. You can't let this get to you, champ."

"Do those other wackjobs have their websites come up as the Number 1 hit on Google when you search a hero's name?" Michael turned his computer back to him and began to type. "Green Arrow… first hit is about him dealing with Ragm… some guy in rags who wanted to kill a CEO. Flash… a blog praising him for stopping a robbery. Booster Gold… crackpot saying I eat babies!"

"I don't think he says you eat them… merely that you might be harvesting their souls." Michael glared at Skeets and the drone said quickly, "I'll just shut my big processor now."

"Listen Michael, I researched this guy and you can't let him get to you. He's just a nut."

"… that's it? That's all you have to say? I'm getting smeared and you, my PR guy, thinks I should just shut up? Seriously?"

"It's better than acknowledging him. This guy, Vic Sage, he's a kook that makes other kooks go "Man, tone it down". Sage ain't even his real name… he hides everything about himself because he thinks the government and their alien overlords are out to get him and he is the last beacon of truth in the world. You begin arguing with him and he'll think that you are hiding something and just dig in. You let him have his fun and soon he'll get bored and go back to demanding to see the President's high school diploma."

"… fine," Michael said with a grunt. "But if he keeps claiming I'm the cause of global warming I'm flying him to the moon."

"What a heroic and noble thing to say," Ted Kord said, stepping into Michael's office. "Wish I'd be around to hear the scholars debate that one in 200 years. "Do you think noble Booster Gold would have left the man on the moon or merely taken him there to see it?". Sorry to barge in but your assistant is an empty chair. I drew a smiley face on a post-it though and slapped that on there… that should work." He held out his hand. "Hi. Ted Kord. I tend to be an asshole."

Michael looked down at the extended hand. "Uh…" 

"It's called a handshake, genius. I invented it."

"I don't believe that is true," Skeets said.

Michael looked Ted over before shaking his hand. "Michael Jon Carter, aka Booster Gold."

"I thought superheroes were supposed to have secret identities."

"I thought Ted Kord was some old guy with a bad combover. Unless you are the old guy then I want the name of your plastic surgeon."

"That's my father."

"So Ted Kord Jr.?"

Ted shook his head. "Nah… I got the first name only. Ted Stephen Kord." 

"My dad wanted to name me after him… mom got him to make do to middle name and shortened."

"…why?"

Michael shrugged. "Because Jonar means 'he who fails'." Ted raised an eyebrow at that and Michael said, "Long story. So what can I do for you, Ted?"

Ted flopped down on the couch, stretching out with a sly smile on his face. "Oh, just being friendly. See, I just got transferred to Ion. Going to be running the Kord Industries' regional headquarters that is here. You might remember it? It was the nice building you planted that cyborg in the expensive suit in front of? Anyway, since I am just a few blocks away I realized that made us neighbors… and what kind of neighbor doesn't stop by and say hello to everyone?" Ted threaded his fingers together and placed them under his chin, fluttering his eyes at Michael. "Hiya neighbor!" he cooed.

"…this is going to be painful, isn't it?" Michael asked.

"All depends on how rough you like it," Ted teased.

Michael, for his part, leaned back in his chair and laughed. "God, you are either going to drive me insane, kill me, or be my best friend."

"Can't we do all three?" Ted asked.

"I can't tell if you two are fighting or flirting," Dirk complained.

Rather than address that Ted motioned for Michael to spin his laptop around; after a moment the blond did so and Ted rolled his eyes. "Vic Sage. Dear god is that man a crackpot."

"You've dealt with him too?" Michael asked.

Ted's smile fell. "The man is convinced my Uncle David is some insane madman building an army of robots in his basement."

"He isn't?" Michael asked with a smirk.

"Nah, he's just a dick. And he's the reason I'm here; see, after you decided to use our headquarters in Ion City as your personal playground he wants me to get a gauge on how you are." Ted looked down at one of the binders Dirk had left out, which showed all manner of proposed Booster Gold merchandise. "He's heard about what you're trying to do..."

Michael's face lit up. "And he wants to partner up?!"

Ted held up a hand, never looking up from the binder. "He wants to explore if he should even consider it. I'm here to make sure you're-"

"What? A good man? Being truthful?"

"I was going to say 'not running around in your underwear licking light sockets' but that works too."

"That was yesterday," Skeets chimed in. Ted, Michael, and Dirk all looked at him and Skeets tilted his entire form downward. "Ah, so everyone else can joke but I can't. Understood."

"The point," Ted said, ending all jokes and moving on to matters at hand, "is that Kord Industries can't just sign on with someone sight unseen. We need to make sure that you are the real deal."

"Oh, my boy Mike is!" Dirk stood up and began to make his way towards the door, motioning for Ted to follow. "Well, why don't I take you down to the conference room and I can show you the presentation we've got set up for potential investors and partners. We put a lot of work into it... break down where we want to be in five years. We at BG International aren't looking to be a flash in the pan... we want to take superheroes to a whole new level. Really break outside of the box. An entire multimedia attack, vision and mission statements... Mike here isn't just some do-gooder running around in his pajamas fighting talking gorillas. He's going to reinvent the superhero business. Come on, the presentation is great... we want to get a video, a highlight reel if you will, but right now all we have is the computer program that lays everything out."

"Oh goody," Ted said with mock sincerity, "PowerPoint slides. Tell me there will be pie charts."

"This is going to go well," Michael muttered to Skeets as he stood up.

"This is a part of business," Skeets reminded his friend. "If we wish to achieve our goals we have to play by the rules."

"And when have you known me to ever do that?" Michael asked.

Before the drone could reply the entire building shook.

"Uh... what was that?" Dirk said.

"Something not good," Michael said, already moving to unbutton his dress shirt. "Last time I checked Michigan doesn't have Earthquakes."

"Technically, while rare, earthquakes can happen in the state," Skeets said helpfully. "On September 2th, 1994, a 3.0 earthquake was felt-" The building rumbled harder this time and alarms began to go off. "Not the point."

"Exactly," Michael said, tossing his shirt to Dirk only to miss him and hit Ted. The brunette stared in confusion as Michael began to unbuckle his pants.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ted asked, yanking the shirt from his face.

"Changing," Michael said, hopping on one foot as he yanked off his dress shoes.

"Mike, is this really the time?" Dirk asked. "I'm sure it was just a little tremble, nothing more!" He gestured at Ted. "We have guests."

"Entertain him while I'm gone," Michael said as he finally freed himself of everything but his underpants. He grabbed his goggles and his gauntlets and put them on. "As much as I would love your money and whatever else you got to offer I need to make sure everyone is okay."

Ted folded his arms over his chest, his smile wiped away as he stared the man who was wearing only his boxers and a gaudy belt down. "And if I decide to be insulted you stripped down and flew off?"

"Then I thank you for your time and I'm sorry it didn't work out!" Michael said even as he jogged towards the large bay window, Skeets' activating the wireless controls and having the window swing open. Michael touched a button on his belt and his suit 'grew' over his skin. It took only a few seconds for the nearly naked Michael Jon Carter to be replaced by the eye-catching Booster Gold. "Come on Skeets!"

"Coming!" Skeets called out, turning as he buzzed out the window. "I apologize for us cutting and running!" he called out as he and Booster flew out the window.

Ted looked at Dirk, the PR man smiling weakly. "Uh... want to get to that presentation now?"

"Are you able to monitor them?" Ted asked.

"I... no, sorry, I'm afraid not... what are you doing?"

"Channel 52," Ted said as he hurried over to Michael laptop and closed out of Sage's page. "They have livestreaming on their website." He quickly clicked on the Breaking News link and waited for the livestream to buffer. "There... there he is... oh man."

Dirk swallowed staring at the small, grainy image of a swaying 15-floor tower. "That's the Dematteis Building."

And racing towards it was Booster and Skeets.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"What are you picking up?" Booster called out as he flew towards the building.

Skeets took a moment before declaring, "Police and medics are 2 minutes out. Multiple calls to 911... reports of injured."

"Going to be a lot more if we don't clear the building!" Booster shouted, flicking his eyes to turn on his infrared. "I've got 10 people on the 5th floor, 7 on the 9th, and 4 on the 14th." He frowned as he sweep his eyes over the building. "Are you getting anything about any other buildings being damaged?"

"No, Michael," Skeets said. "A few reports of shaking, a filing cabinet tumbling over in an office building a block away, power out at the grocery store on 5th but only the Dematteis Building has been seriously damaged."

Booster's jaw worked before he went into a dive. "You ever get the feeling things don't smell right."

"As I do not have a nose..." Skeets said. "Might I suggest you begin at the top floor? They appear to be trapped and I should be able to get the stairwell clear for the ones on the 5th."

"Got it," Booster said, moving into an ascent while Skeets used his laser to cut through a window on the 5th. Booster landed lightly and scanned the floor, quickly finding the quartet working to try and move a piece of collapsed ceiling away from the exit. One was clearly the big boss while the two others were most likely direct reports. The last was... "Brie?!"

"Oh... hello sir," Booster's former assistant said. "If you are here to beg me to come back I am afraid I've already found a new position."

"I'm not... never mind. Come on, I'm going to get you guys out of here." Booster hurried over to the four and the big boss shoved Brie and the younger of the two directs towards him.

"Get them out of here first!" the man shouted.

"I'll be back for you!" Booster shouted, the younger employee hurrying over and wrapping Booster in a bear hug.

"Sir, would you like me to cling to Mr. Gold?" Brie asked. "Or would you prefer him to hold me while I attempt-"

"Oh for the love of-" Booster wrapped his arm around her and lifting off, diving out of the window. The two workers he'd rescued cried out but Booster easily slowed his descent until he nimbly landed in front of a paramedic. "Wait here!" he told the medic before hurrying back to the 14th floor. "Told you I'd be back." The boss opened his mouth to reply onto for the building to tremble once more. Booster grabbed the second man just as the floor gave way and the big boss fell through the floor. "NO!" Booster shouted, extending his forefield around the man he was holding before diving into the hole, managing to catch the falling businessman before he hit the 12th floor. "Damn it, the whole this is falling apart from the inside!" Heft the big boss into a more stable position Booster aimed his right arm and fired off a quick energy blast that ripped a hole in the side of the building, giving him and his charges enough space to get out.

"Thank you," the second worker said the moment they touched back down.

The businessman nodded. "Indeed."

Booster merely nodded, flashing a grin. "Hey... it's me! Ion's #1 hero!" He turned back to the building. "Skeets, the whole thing is turning into a house of cards. How are things on your end?"

In his comm Skeets replied, "I have cleared the stairwell and I'm leading my group to the ground floor. The 9th floor is still occupied."

"I'm on- wait." Booster looked to the right of the entrance. "Skeets, I'm seeing someone lying down on the ground floor in the back on the first floor."

"Scanning," Skeets said. "Yes... yes, there appears to be a man trapped under some rubble."

"Can you get to him?" Booster asked, taking a step forward.

"No. My stairwell is on the opposite end of the building."

Booster looked up at the 7th floor before making a decision. "Skeets, you won't be able to lift that block. I'll rescue the guy on the ground floor, you get your group out and go for the last set."

"Will do," Skeets stated as Booster flew through the doors of the Dematteis Building, not even bothering to blast them.

Twisting past a reception desk, Booster flicked off his infrareds as he neared the trapped victim, landing and grabbing hold of the heavy piece of ceiling that had the man pinned. "Don't worry, I've got-"

One moment he was standing next to the downed man. The next he was crashing into a pillar, his forcefield the only thing that kept him from becoming a bloody smudge on the concrete. He pulled himself free, staring in confusion and anger as the 'victim' easily tossed away the slab of concrete and began to approach, punching one gauntlet-covered hand into another. Booster fell to the ground only to feel the earth tremble with every step the 'victim' took towards him.

"Who the hell are you?" Booster demanded, flexing his fingers.

"Shockwave," the 'victim' said. "And unfortunately for you there is a price on your, hero. Boss wants you dead and I aim to please." The killer slammed his fist down, Booster managing to roll away and get back to his feet. He fired off an energy blast that hit Shockwave's armor, scoring it but doing little else to halt his slow steady walk towards the gold and blue hero. "Now then, I suppose I could have tracked you down-" He was cut off as Booster fired another blast at him, Shockwave frowned but continuing forward, the building trembling with his approach, "-but I think tricking you into a collapsing building was good enough."

"You… you risked all these people… just to find me?!" Booster shouted, firing twin blasts at the deranged man.

Shockwave was pushed back a foot but soon braced himself and began to walk forward. His armor was beginning to at last show the wear and tear from Booster's shots but still functioned perfectly well. The hero tried to fly around, get off shots from different angles, but Shockwave was relentless, a lumbering behemoth slouching towards him. Booster's gauntlets were strong enough to drill into 2 feet of solid concrete with a single shot… and yet against whatever armor Shockwave was wearing it was merely making dents and scratches. He should have been able to blast a hole through the armor (and perhaps the madman's chest as well) but found himself frustrated that his foe was batting away his attempts like one would wave away a pesky fly.

"Hey, don't blame me!" Shockwave said with a laugh, holding his arms out wide. "I knock the buildings down, you get the people out. Not my fault you suck at your job." Shockwave looked up, a bit of plaster raining down on him. "Hmmm… I sure do hope everyone is out… building's about the collapse."

Booster let out a roar and rushed Shockwave, tackling him and driving the two into a wall. Shockwave reached up and Booster briefly saw that his chunky gauntlet had a glowing hole in it before a whining buzz filled the air and the villain grabbed his shoulder.

"What you are feeling now is equivalent to a 5.7 magnitude earthquake," Shockwave said with a laugh, squeezing Booster's shoulder harder. "According to the man who made my suit at this close of range that's enough to make your bones begin turning into dust-"

Booster reached up and grabbed Shockwave's wrist, a fierce smile on his face as he showed he was none the worse for wear.

"…but apparently you have tricks of your own," Shockwave muttered.

"Yup," Booster said as his forefield took the brunt of the attack. He reared back and punched Shockwave in the face, taking dark delight in the feeling of the man's nose breaking under his knuckles. "You like shaking things up?" Booster shouted, grabbing at a seam in the armor and pulling on it, yanking off a chunk of the armor plating. "I'll give you shaking!" Booster delivering three strong jabs to Shockwave's armor before unleashing a point-blank blast to his chest, the armor crumpling and sending his foe flying back. "I'm going to rip you out of that suit piece by piece and then prep walk you naked to the police station… the far one at the edge of town. And it's a cold afternoon!" 

"Yeah… you do that," Shockwave said, blood gushing down his face from his broken nose. "Oh, you got me good! Haven't had a break like this since I was 14." Shockwave wagged his finger at Booster. "I like you, which is why I'm gonna be honest with you and not let you make a huge mistake." 

"And what is that?" Booster said, taking a step towards him.

"The mistake would be taking me in."

"Why? Because you have so much to offer me?" Booster asked. "See, that's the funny thing about setting up your own business… as weird as it sounds it makes it really hard to buy me off."

"Not referring to that," Shockwave said, pointing up. Booster's eyes drifted up only for Shockwave to activate the vibration blasters in his boots, causing the floor beneath the two to tremble and shake. Booster's eyes snapped back on him but Shockwave waved him off. "Uh uh uh! This whole thing is about to collapse and I'm guessing there are still people trapped up there. You can either waste time dealing with me or go make sure no one dies." Shockwave backed away towards the door. "Your pick."

Booster looked up at the ceiling, then back at Shockwave, before letting out a growl of frustration. "Skeets! The man responsible for the earthquakes his heading out the back! I have to get the people out of the building!"

"Oh, that's not fair," Shockwave teased before slamming his palms to the ground and unleashing a massive quake. Booster stumbled as the building began to come apart all around him. "Next time, hero!"

"Skeets!" Booster shouted, taking to the air. "Shockwave-"

"Mihcael, the building is collapsing!" Skeets yelled, panicked. "You have to get out of there now!"

"There are people still up there, Skeets!"

"You'll never get there-"

"I have to!" Booster bellowed, zipping up through the second floor and then the third, He switched on his infrareds, spotting the huddled workers 20 feet above him and 40 feet to his right and began to weave through falling debris, blasting pieces that were too big for him to squeeze by. "Skeets, tell the medics to be ready, I'm gonna-" 

A massive hunk of concrete slammed into Booster, driving him down. He spun around, blasting it into dust, but more large chunks were raining down on him, pushing him back towards the ground floor. The walls trembled and then, with a hideous groan, the floors above him lost the battle with gravity.

"NO!" Booster screamed, reaching out towards the rapidly shrinking thermal images of the workers even as the entire building came down on top of him.

Back at BG International Ted and Dirk stared at the screen in horror as the Dematties Building collapsed down on top of the hero.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

Mandragora watched the footage on Channel 52, his face an unreadable mask. The shot had been played at the top of every hour and though the crime boss had now seen it 4 times he still studied it with the same intense gaze as he had the first time viewing it. It started off rather smooth, a nighttime pan across the crumbled remains of the Dematties Building, fire crews and rescue workers picking through the wreckage. And then, 20 seconds into the footage, there was a blast of yellow light and the camera jumped as operator struggled to track Booster Gold as he burst out of what should have been his tomb. The hero hovered in the air for a moment, looking at the rubble, before flying away.

" _This scene took place 8 hours ago in Ion City. Booster Gold, the hero responsible for saving the President from the cyborg assassin a week ago, confronted a man we have learned goes by the moniker 'Shockwave'. While Booster and his partner Skeets were able to rescue a majority of the men and women trapped in the building during Shockwave's rampage 7 people lost their lives when the building collapsed on top of the hero. Dirk Davis, Booster Gold's public relations agent, issued a stated, saying "Our hearts and prayers go out to the victims of this terrible attack." He went on to say-"_

Mandragora turned the TV off and moved to look at his laptop and the video screen that was filled with Shockwave's bruised face. "Tell me… what do you call that?"

"Damn good television," Shockwave chuckled. "Would have been better if the bastard had stayed down-"

Mandragora slammed his fist against his desk, his breakfast trembling as he did so. "You had one task! One! Kill Booster Gold! All you managed to do is kill a few people and let the whole world know your name!"

"Technically my code name-" Shockwave said, only to grow quiet when he saw just how angry his boss was. "Not the point, I guess." He shrugged, feeling a lot bolder being well beyond his boss' physical reach. "Still, this works well for you, right? You want to ruin this man and I just broke his spirit. You… you should have heard him yelling." Shockwave laughed. "It was like music. Haven't heard someone bellow like that since I dealt with that teamster and his pretty little daughter-"

"We do not need to ruin him if he is dead," Mandragora hissed. "If he were an established hero then yes, we'd need to chip away at his image, bring him down in the eyes of the public, ensure no one followed in his footsteps. But he is new, green… he has one victory under his belt. You kill him now and you wipe away everything. He will be forgotten within a week, another flash in the pan. But you had to get showy and now he has a chance-"

"To what?" Shockwave asked. "Come back and make some daring move? You didn't see him, boss… he's done, his body just doesn't know it yet." Shockwave touched the tape on his broken nose. "And I have just the thing to seal the deal."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"At this time Booster has not comment but he will address the media as soon as he can. Thank you." Dirk hung up the line and moved to the next. "Yes? No... no, I'm afraid that Booster can't do an interview with you tonight, sir. Yes... yes... you have to understand that he simply can't dedicate time he needs to track down Shockwave to a sit-down interview. We will... yes... we will contact you if matters change. Thank you." Dirk hung up the phone and looked at Skeets, who was hovering just a few feet away. While it was hard for a robot to 'look nervous' Skeets was somehow managing to pull it off despite not having a face. "These are the worst days. I've had to do the 'day-after' calls a lot and they always suck. Yeah, when you are truly in the wrong you either bluff your way through or have to eat your own hat. And when you are innocent you can go with indigent anger. But this?" He waved his hand towards the bank of television screens. While some were playing shots of different news stories (unrest in the middle east, a sporting event, the latest celeb scandal) most were discussing the Dematties Building and Booster Gold. "No one wins here."

"At least the press has been fair," Skeets pointed out. "They aren't blaming Booster for the collapse."

Dirk glanced at the firmly shut door of Michael's office. "I'm glad someone isn't."

The elevator dinged and Ted stepped out, looking about the office space. It was striking how quickly moods could change; the day before things had been light and airy with a sense of frantic chaos. Now it felt like a solemn graveyard where all were afraid of speaking too loud lest they wake the dead.

"He in there?" Ted asked; there was no need to clarify 'who'.

"Yeah... says he doesn't want to speak to anyone," Dirk said with a sigh. "I keep telling him he needs to buck up. The mayor came out and said it wasn't Booster's fault, the police cleared him of any wrong doing, and almost all the blame from the victims' families is focused right on Shockwave where it belongs. Booster needs to be out there, the public seeing him save the day... not moping in his office."

Ted just stared down Dirk and soon the PR man was squirming. "You are just a lovely human being, you know that?"

"What?" Dirk said in confusion as Ted went to Michael's office. "What?!"

Ted shut the door behind him and took in the rather pathetic sight of Michael sitting on the floor, his legs stretched before him. He was wearing the dress shirt he'd had on the day before but it was unbuttoned and gave the world a peak at the blond's ripped upper body. He was fiddling with his goggles, turning them back and forth, spinning them around, running his fingers along the lens. He had the air of a dejected warrior, of the quarterback who'd fumbled the winning touchdown or the power forward who'd gone for a dunk and only got air. He'd closed the blinds but a few bars of light still managed to splash onto his face. Ted waited for a moment before he sat down beside the hero.

"You a fan of Star Trek?" Ted finally asked.

Michael shrugged. "Nah... before my time."

Ted quirked an eyebrow at this. "They just put a movie out..."

"Trust me... before my time," Michael said, the smile that tugged on his lips never forming in his eyes or words.

Ted dropped that little curiosity and said, "In 'The Wrath of Khan', which is the best damn movie... not just in the series but overall and now I am going to force you to watch it... they have this thing called the Kobayashi Maru. It's a training test. See, there is this thing, the Neutral Zone... the Federation, those are the good guys, made an agreement with some of their enemies that they'd never enter the Neutral Zone; if they do so it is an act of war. Well, in the test cadets at the Academy fly a simulation of a starship that gets a distress signal from the Kobayashi Maru. It has a bunch of people on board and the ships gone into the Neutral Zone because it broke down." Ted glanced at Michael, making sure he was paying attention, before continuing. "Now, at first you have two options: first is you follow guidelines and don't go into the Neutral Zone; that means the Kobayashi Maru is doomed and you are ensuring the crew and passengers die.

"The other option is that you fly into the Neutral Zone and risk a rescue. Now keep in mind that doing so means you are breaking all these treaties and if you get caught you are going to start a war... a BIG war. But maybe you figure that you can handle it, that you are smart enough or fast enough, and that you can get in, beam in the survivors, and get out. Problem is once you get into the Neutral Zone Klingon Birds of Prey... those are ships with cloaking-" he saw Michael just staring at him with half-lidded eyes and Ted grimaced, "Not the point, okay, moving on. Anyway, these ships decloak and attack you. You try to run... they outflank you. You try a bunch of cunning moves, they outsmart you. You manage through grit and luck to take out the ships... and 10 more appear. You can't win."

"This is a very rousing pep talk," Michael said dryly.

"Shut up I have a point," Ted said. "It is a No-Win Situation. You do nothing and you doom innocent people. You try and do good and people die. You can't ever achieve perfection."

"And what?" Michael interjected. "This is my Kobayashi Maru? I should accept that I can't win?"

"No because that is stupid," Ted stated simply. When Michaal glared at him Ted held up a hand, asking for some patience. "Here's the thing... Starfleet did the test to see how a captain would react in the face of death. What would be their response, how would they deal with utter failure. That this would inform them of what type of captain the cadet would be. But I've always thought Starfleet ended the test too soon... that the real measure of a man... or woman so we aren't sexist... isn't how they deal with defeat but what they do after."

Michael, despite his gloomy mood, found himself asking, "What do you mean?"

Ted looked up at the ceiling. "In the movie the first person we see do the Kobayashi Maru is a Vulcan named Saavik. She takes the test and once it is done she argues that it wasn't fair. She complains that the deck was set against her. She doesn't let it go either. It bugs her, you can tell, and she is trying to find a way to prove that she should have won and would have if only the test had played nice.

"Later we learn how Captain James T. Kirk handled the Kobayashi Maru: he tried a few times and when the system continued to cheat he decided to cheat right back. He reprogrammed the test to allow him to win... easily!" Ted smiled. "And that is my point. Kirk didn't pout or mope because he failed. He didn't try and prove that it wasn't his fault. He accepted his failure and then moved to ensure it didn't happen again."

Ted finally locked eyes with Michael. "People died. You couldn't save them. Maybe it was your fault, maybe it wasn't. I weigh on the side it wasn't... maybe you could have gone to them first but you don't know if Shockwave would have brought the building down when he got tired of waiting. Or he could have fled and attacked more buildings and caused even more damage and destruction. None of us know. The question isn't 'what should I have done'. It should be 'what will I do next time'. Do you accept the No-Win Scenerio... or do you tell it to piss off?"

"You make it sound easy," Michael said.

"Of course, I ain't the hero. There is a reason I'm not the one in spandex. I'm just the rich guy with the dickish uncle." Ted hopped up and offered his hand to the blond. "So... what do you do now?"

Michael looked at Ted's offered hand and after a few moments Ted began to pull away, figuring Michael wasn't interested in leaving his funk. But the moment his hand twitched Michael grasped his forehead and heaved himself up.

"Screw the Kobayashi Maru," Michael said firmly, a determined glint in his eye.

"Damn straight." Ted looked around the office. "Now, if it were me I'd focus first on how to get things organized in here."

"I believe I can help with that." Ted and Michael turned, both startled by the arrival of a tall, dignified man with a British accent and the air of one who had held the reins of power and knew how to use wield them. The man smiled and offered his hand. "Walter Steele."

"Uh... Michael Jon Carter," Michael said. "And this is my... I'm not sure what he is..."

"I'm just a bored rich guy," Ted said with a smirk.

"...that, Ted Kord."

"A pleasure to meet you both." Walter walked over to Michael's desk and set his briefcase on it, popping it open. "Now then, I was informed by an interested third party that you were seeking someone to be your Chief Operational Officer. I've been looking both for a change of pace and scenery and thought that Ion City would be a lovely place to set up new roots." Walter smiled politely. "And helping a superhero? That does sound like exciting work."

Michael, in a bit of a daze, walked behind his desk, fumbling to button up his shirt so he looked a bit more presentable. Ted moved to leave but Michael shook his head, motioning for him to join him. Ted shrugged and grabbed a spare chair. The blond hero took Walter's offered resume, eyes widening as he scrolled down the past experience. "CFO for Starling City National Bank and before that you ran Queen Consolidated?"

"You used to work in Starling?" Ted asked. "And... you're still alive?" He considered what he'd just say. "Granted, you aren't a candidate for mayor..."

Walter, with a frown on his features, stated dryly, "My wife was Moria Queen... a candidate for mayor who was killed by Deathstroke."

"...Ted, go stand in the corner and look pretty," Michael said, He turned to Walter and stated. "Alright... you're hired for the next 3 minutes."

"Pardon?" Walter said.

"You have 3 minutes... prove to me I should extend your contract."

Walter considered Michael for a moment before smiling. "You're more savvy than you let on."

"I majored in business with a minor in history. More than just a pretty face in a fancy costume. 2 minutes and 30 seconds."

Walter, with a nod, reached into his briefcase and pulled out some folders. "I took time to look at your current hirings and positions of need. Other than COO you need a CFO but that shouldn't be a problem once we have things set up properly. You've done well selecting top talent; you aren't just going for the flashy name that will generate buzz. Dr. Klein will do well leading your medical department and while he tends to focus a bit too much on what PowerPoints said Dirk Davis is a respected name. I feel your biggest misstep is Dr. Jacobs; don't get me wrong, he is a fine man and would do well enough running your sciences division but he is someone rooted in the established. What you are attempting to achieve here is rather bold and I think you need bold talent to push the limits of what this company can do not just for you as a superhero but for society as a whole. You are seeking to do more than support yourself, correct?"

Michael nodded and Ted watched, rather impressed, as Michael held the line against Walter Steele. "In the beginning it will be about me, yes, but that is because I am marketable. The investors will want to put their money in Booster Gold. But my hope is that within 3 years we are able to branch out into other areas... developments in medicine, computers, tech, so on. By Year 5 I'd like to see my heroic activities be little more than another facet of BG International and by Year 10 have this company competing with the likes of Wayne Enterprises and, no offense Ted, Kord Industries."

"None taken," Ted said, a touch in a daze at how quickly Michael had slipped into CEO-mode.

"Then I would suggest you move Jacobs to a smaller position or letting him go and hiring Dr. Tracy Simmons. She is a brilliant physicist and her work on black holes is quite impressive. I have her contact information here... her father is an old friend. I'm sure we can lure her away from Mercury Labs."

Michael looked over the sheet. "Bold is good but risk always holds danger... and becoming the first open superhero- shut up Ted- means I'm taking on plenty of risk. How do we counter that?"

"By making your division heads, your CFO and COO the members of your board. Klein loves new fields of study but he doesn't have his head in the clouds. I myself have always looked for new challenges but have most of my experience in well-tested institutions. By working together we can ensure that expectations remain on level and that we don't stick our necks out too far." Walter looked at his watch. "And that is actually 5 minutes."

"I extended your contract 4 minutes ago," Michael said with a grin, extending his hand. "We'll work on contract and salary asap but unless you suddenly decide to begin punching me in the face I'd say the job is yours." Michael paused. "Hell, you could punch me and I'd still keep you on."

Walter chuckled. "I'll remember that."

Michael was about to say something when Bernie, Skeets, and Dirk ran into his office. "Hey guys! Meet our new COO!"

"Yeah, that's great, shake hands later," Bernie said in a rush. "Michael, turn on Channel 52... it's Shockwave."

Michael fumbled for the remote, switching on the TV and turning it to the designated channel. The screen flickered and then they were all watching a shot from an aerial cam of the Batista Bridge. Cars were in deadlock and they could see a few people cowering behind their vehicles as Shockwave marched up and down the one clear patch of the bridge, occasionally raising his arms and making broad wild motions.

The reporter's voice cut in. _"We have received word from those on the bridge that the man believed to be Shockwave is threatening to collapse the bridge if anyone attempts to leave. He is demanding that Booster Gold come and, according to one witness who called in, "Try and save some more lives", end quote. Shockwave is the man wanted for the destruction of the Dematties Building-"_

Michael muted the TV, already gathering his gear.

"You know this is a trap, right?" Ted stated.

"Yeah," Michael said, strapping on his goggles as he went into his private washroom to change. "But I don't have much of a choice." He tried to take on a lighter tone. "Wrath of Khan has a happy ending, right? Bad guy defeated, heroes save the day?"

Dirk frowned. "Nooooo... Spock dies-OOMPF!"

Ted removed his elbow from Dirk's gut. "Yeah... give'em hell."

"Before you leave," Walter said as Michael excited the bathroom in his costume, "I'd like to be on comm. I believe I can help you here."

"We haven't gotten the comms set up yet," Michael admitted.

Walter looked at Skeets. "You are rather advanced... you're telling me you can't dial a telephone number?"

Skeets dipped a bit. "If I could blush I would do so now."

"Connect to my tablet," Walter said, pulling a device from his briefcase and powering it on. "Mr. Kord, can you sync me to the TV?" Ted quickly nodded. "Mr. Davis, I need headsets for all of us. We can't afford to play Operator here. Dr. Klein, keep watch on the news and ensure that this isn't a diversion for a bigger assault." Michael, who'd moved to the window, glanced at Walter who shrugged. "You hired me to manage operations... this is me managing."

Michael gave him a thumbs up before diving out of the window, Skeets fast on his heels.

"Can you hear us?" Skeets asked after a few moments.

"Yes," Walter said as Dirk ran back in with a handful of headsets, Ted pausing from getting the TV set up to sync it to Walter's tablet. Putting the device in his ear he said, "Skeets, can we get visual?"

"Of course, sir," Skeets said just as Ted linked the tablet to the TV. Those in the office were treated to a POV shot of the city racing by them, Booster and Skeets whipping around buildings and diving up and down to avoid any obstacles. It was like a roller coaster on crack. "We are nearing the bridge now."

"Michael, before you engage I'd like to get a look at this Shockwave," Walter said.

"Got it," Booster said, coming into a hover at the shoreline. The Batista Street Bridge spanned across the Ion River, which fed into Lake Michigan. Normally full of people hurrying along from one side of the city to the other, the bridge was now the site of fear and chaos as Shockwave continued taunting Booster and the news copters that were flying overhead. "Okay, his armor is still dinged up so that is a plus."

"Think you can hit him from where you are flying?" Bernie asked

"Oh, easily," Booster said. "Won't do much good. That armor is a tough nut and the man wearing it is tougher, as hard as it is to believe. This isn't some wimp who got himself a powersuit... this guy is a bruiser and the armor only makes it worse."

"How did he create the earthquakes?" Walter asked. Ted had managed to put the video solely on the TV, allowing Walter to use his tablet freely.

"His gauntlets. They had this weird... it's hard to describe, it was this weird hole but there was something inside of it. He said he used vibrations... he grabbed me and if I didn't have my forcefield he'd have killed me with a touch."

"Can you zoom in?" Walter asked. Booster did so, taking his goggles to the limit, but was rewarded when the older man murmured in confirmation. "Of course."

"What is that?" Klein asked.

"Someone mind cluing me in?" Booster called out. "Shockwave isn't going to wait forever!"

"It's a miniture Markov Device."

"Shit," Dirk murmured. "Tell me you're wrong."

"Guys! Clueless hero!" Booster reminded them.

Walter forced himself to remain calm. "The Markov Device was created by Unidac Industries... and was used by Malcolm Merlyn to cause the Starling City earthquake."

"...and this guy has several of them strapped to his body?!"

"I would make a joke about shocking developments but this isn't the time or place," Skeets said.

Walter quickly began to tap his tablet. "I'm pulling up the schematics."

"You have those?" Bernie said in surprise.

"I have friends in interesting places," Walter said simply. "Alright, now it looks like-"

"Give it here," Ted demanded, yanking the tablet from Walter. "Let the man with degrees in engineering handle this. Booster, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Ted. Your dick of an Uncle going to be okay with you helping the unknown variable?"

"He can shove off if he does," Ted said, looking over the schematics. "Okay, so originally they were going for smaller but Unidac... yeah, yeah, that make sense. They were forced to increase the size of the devices because, if used too long they had a tendency to shut down. Fine if you want a small pulse but if you need to create a nice big earthquake then not so hot. They were able to add a coolant system to the larger model Merlyn used but I doubt those gauntlets or boots have anything like that."

Booster considered Ted's words. "So I need to get him to use the gauntlets on me."

"Michael, I advise against that!" Bernie exclaimed.

"My forcefield-"

"Have you fieldtested it? Truly found out its limits?" Bernie challenged. "It gives out and you are dead."

"I don't do this and those people are." Booster set his face in the same expression he wore when going for a final touchdown drive. "Alright, taking out the gauntlets then I worry about the boots." Before his team could respond Booster was already racing towards the bridge. "Skeets, I want you to circle around... we need to frustrate this guy. He wants to poke my buttons I'll poke his."

"What do you mean?" Skeets asked.

"I've had teammates like this idiot," Booster said with a grim smile. "You tell them to do what you want and they buck and snort. But you taunt them just right…" He flew in, landing in front of Shockwave, and raised an eyebrow as he took in the villain. "Well… most guys just text me when they want to see me. You certainly don't know how to play hard to get." And then, with all the dignity in the world… he puckered his lips and made a few kissy noises.

Shockwave glared at him and Booster watched in interest as rage, confusion, disgust, and maybe even a bit of curiosity danced through the villain's gray matter.

"Did the building hit you so hard it gave you brain damage?" Shockwave asked with a scoff, trying to take back control of the situation. "Or maybe the poor innocent people you failed to save broke your fall."

Booster felt his anger bubbling but tapped it down, forcing the look of the cocky jock onto his features. "Nah, that was a love tap. I'm tough like that. I see you are still using the same tricks to compensate for your deficiencies?" He looked around the bridge, nodding his head in approval. "Went bigger to cover up this time… smart."

"What are you rambling on about?" Shockwave asked, holding up his gauntlet and letting a thrum of vibration run through it. He took a step and the bridge swayed.

"Careful there," Ted warned in Booster's ear.

Booster made no show that he heard him. "You remind me of my father. He had this thing… see, where I grew up there were these very strict rules about vices. Grambling, drinking… if you wanted to do any of that, you couldn't just walk into a bar like you can here. Which is amazing, I will say! Anyway, you had to go to the worst of the worst places. And those types of dives… well, they attract the worst of the worst. My father took me with him a few times; let me drink a beer, laugh as I got drunk. He liked watching me try and stumble home. But other nights he was in the mood for something else." Booster began to pace, Shockwave following his progress, tense and ready. "He would find the biggest, toughest guy, a guy everyone knew could take down everyone in the bar and he'd… well mock is a gentle word for it. He get the guy all riled up, really push his buttons. And then, the moment this guy cocked his fist and was ready to throw the first punch…" Booster smirked. "My old man would grab me and shove me in the guy's way. Really startle him. Sometimes I'd get off with a shove, sometimes it was a kick. Honestly it didn't matter because the moment the big tough guy was focused on me my dad would grab the baseball bat he knew the bartender kept hidden behind the bar and he would just go to town!"

Booster licked his lips, a mocking sneer on his face. "You're no different than my old man… you know you can't beat me one on one so you put innocent people in the way just to distract me and get the cheap shot. And hey, if it works!" Slowly, steadily, Booster turned his back to Shockwave. "But the problem with that is… everyone knows you only won because of a cheap shot. They know you're a fake… nothing more. So come on… take me down. Threaten some innocents, throw a puppy into the water, make some babies cry. We both know that straight up… you don't stand-"

Shockwave let out a roar and rushed Booster, his armor-covered fist colliding with Booster's stomach. The hero grunted, his forcefield trembling but holding firm even as the vibration-enhanced punch rocked the gold-and-blue hero. Booster moved to punch the armored killer but Shockwave just twisted, allowing Booster's hit to go against his shoulder before he went in for a series of quick punches to the head. The hero staggered back, in a daze, and Shockwave grinned as he leapt at him, delivering a nasty falling sucker punch to the back of Booster's head. The hero hit the ground and groaned, though he did manage to roll onto his back and catch Shockwave's boot stomp before it could hit him or the bridge.

"Michael, disengage!" Walter called out.

"I agree with Mr. Steele!" Skeets proclaimed. "I'll distract him-"

"NO!" Booster roared with a voice laden with pain.

Back at GB International Dirk looked at Klein. "What happens if that forcefield breaks?"

The doctor shook his head. "Depends on the hit. He gets his hands on his back he could make it feel like Michael decelerated from 100 mph to nothing in a microsecond. The whiplash would snap his spine. He grabs the head and he could scramble his brain. If he-"

"Thank you Mr. Positive!" Ted snarked before yelling, "Damn it, Michael, get the hell out of there!"

Booster was in no position to comply, however. He was swaying on his feet, his punches feeble as Shockwave played with him, easily moving out of the way even with his decreased speed. "I… I think this might have been a mistake, coach."

"Skeets, do something!" Bernie pleaded.

The drone continued to hover, waiting. "…Michael has this." 

"What he has is a concussion!" Ted shouted. "Get him out of there!"

Skeets didn't move.

Shockwave caught Booster's latest wild punch and moved into a wrist grab, snatching the hero's other arm as he moved to try and free himself. With a cocky laugh Shockwave spread his arms, Booster grunting in pain as the villain activated his gauntlets.

"I was never going to destroy the bridge, you idiot," he taunted as Booster gasped in agony. "It look like I can swim in this damn thing? I didn't want them to be fodder I wanted them to be bait… and then to be witnesses. I want them all to watch as their hero dies!" He ramped up the vibration and Booster screamed to the heavens. "That's right! That's right! Let them all hear you-"

There were two pops, like logs cracking in a fire, and suddenly it was Shockwave's turn to cry out as his gauntlets overloaded. The villain let go of Booster, hurriedly trying to remove his gauntlets even as the overheating electronics and metal burned his skin, only to stumble back as Booster headbutted him.

"One… one more thing I forgot to tell you," Booster panted, doubled over, his eyes on the pavement as he weaved. "Right before my dad picked out his target he'd tell me, "Boy… you better make this look convincing!". I learned early on how to sell a punch." Booster's head snapped up, his body straight and strong, no signs of the pain that moments earlier had been so evident on his body. "I got real good at flopping."

Shockwave's eyes went wide but he couldn't even shield himself before Booster flew at him, wrapping his arms around him and thrusting them both into the sky. Shockwave tried to fight back but the golden hero merely threw him into the air and began to blast him with his gauntlet shots, juggling his foe as he bounced through the air.

"Skeets!" Booster shouted and his partner rushed in, firing as well. Soon Shockwave's armor was being torn from him, chunk by blasted-away chunk, the man not so much crying out for mercy as merely crying as he was taken apart.

After about two minutes Booster finally let his foe drop to the ground, Shockwave twitching as the rest of his armor crumbled off him like it was made of eggshells. Booster landed and reached down, raising the goon's head up so he could look him in the eye.

He said no words. He just decked him hard, shattering his nose again and knocking the man out cold. Booster looked to the crowd, the public staring at him in shock.

"This is where you snap your photos, folks!" he called out, beaming as people hurried to pull out their phones and capture his victory.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

In Mandragora's office there were no smiles and no photos being taken. Instead there was merely one nervous mob boss and one angry Enforcer.

"A… setback," Mandragora said. "Nothing more. Next time-"

 **"Get out,"** Supernova said. The heavyset criminal didn't have to be told twice and he quickly fled, leaving the masked man alone staring at the TV.

Supernova's hand curled into a fist.

" **Michael…"**

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

Ted looked down at his glass and frowned. "When you said we'd have a drink to celebrate I assumed you meant champagne or at the very least a beer." He swirled the sugary red liquid and looked up at Michael. "What are you, twelve?"

"What?" the hero said, once more in his dress shirt and slacks. "It has electrolytes in it!" Dirk and Bernie, used to their boss and his odd tastes, merely raised their glasses and drank. Skeets hovered nearby, a little party hat on his shell. "So Ted, I suppose I should be thanking you."

"Damn right you should. I'm the one that figured out how to defeat Shockwave… you owe me big time. Like real liquor." 

"Not for that but thank you." Michael leaned back in his chair, draining his glass with one long swig. "I meant for calling Walter. He's going to work out great."

Ted chuckled lightly. "Normally I love accepting praise for things I didn't do but… I didn't call Walter Steele. I've never met the guy, never talked to him…"

Michael cut the man off, waving away his comments. "Yeah yeah, you two want to keep pretending that he just happened to show up. Fine fine."

"Michael," Ted said, his smile dropping. "I didn't call him."

The hero considered this before laughing. "Okay… yeah, you didn't call him." He stood up and walked over to Ted, wrapping an arm around him. "I guess I do owe you a beer for saving my butt. Come on." He led Ted out of the room, his voice tapering off as he walked towards the elevator. "Now, I don't drink but I bet there are plenty of people willing to buy me a glass so you can drink them all for me…"

Bernie and Dirk shared a look before chuckling.

"I fear what they will be like in the morning," Skeets said.

"Better babysit them, Skeets" Dirk suggested.

"Will do," the drone said, hovering out the door only to pop back in. "Which one of you contacted Mr. Steele?" 

Dirk and Bernie both shrugged, only to look at the other in confusion.

"I didn't call him," Dirk said.

"It wasn't me." Bernie frowned, looking down at his drink. " Ted?" 

"…had to have been. Just being modest or playing a joke." Dirk lifted his glass only to stop before he actually took a sip.

The two fell into an uneasy silence.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

In his hotel room Walter Steele loosened his tie before moving to his laptop. He sat at the oak desk, pausing before he flicked on a small, rather benign looking black box. The device let out a small ping before sending out a signal that would block listening device in a 40 foot radius. Once that was settled he logged onto the private chat, waiting for the familiar face he knew was on the other end to answer.

"Walter."

"Hello Oliver," Walter Steele told his stepson. "Things went according to plan. I've been hired to run BG International."

"They suspect anything?"

"They might have, had it not been for Shockwave," Walter stated. "Please thank Ms. Smoak for the schematics on the Markov device. They were quite helpful."

Oliver Queen nodded. "And Phase 2?"

Walter nodded. "Tomorrow I will begin hiring in the new employees. Mrs. Diggle has provided me a list of ARGUS agents who will be able to blend in seamlessly. By the end of the month we will have complete knowledge of BG International."

"I heard that Kord Industries might be looking for a partnership."

"That remains to be seen. Mr. Kord will be a wild card." Walter pursed his lips, considering his next statement carefully. "Oliver… when you came to me and told me everything…"

"I should have done it sooner," Oliver said. "I'm… learning from my past mistakes."

"And I am thankful I have earned your trust but that isn't my point. I would like to know what the endgame is. You have me keeping an eye on Booster Gold… I think I deserve to know why."

Oliver was silent for a long time. "If… and this is a big if… he turns out to be a true hero, someone who can and will do good in the world that I want to foster that. I can't be everywhere at once and I'll have my hands full in Starling and building a new team. I trust you though to make sure he becomes the hero he could be."

"And if he isn't?" Walter asked. "If it turns out he is little more than a con man? Or something worse?"

The pause was even greater.

"Goodnight Walter." 

And with that the computer screen went black.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

NEXT TIME ON BOOSTER GOLD!

Michael Jon Carter life has begun shaping up nicely. With Walter Steele helping him set up BG International and his heroic career making him the talk of Ion and the world around it feels like everyone is thinking about Booster Gold.

Though some more than others.

In Central City Michael's work has attracted the attention of an obsessive man. He's thought himself the spurned lover of Lisa Snart, believed himself Captain Cold's greatest arch foe, burned with hatred when the Flash got the love of the city that HE deserved… and now his twisted mind has turned its focus and rage on Ion City's golden hero.

And when one is the focus of Chillblaine's deranged anger… no one is safe.

A cold wind comes blowing in next time in "A Chill in the Air"


	3. Episode 3- A Chill in the Air

Last time on BOOSTER GOLD!

Michael Jon Carter arrived from the 25th century to the modern world to take his place among the greats in the Golden Age of Heroes. To do this he decided to take a different route, revealing his identity to the public and turning his hero duties into a business that will help change the world. During his battle with one of Mandragora's 100 Soldiers Michael hired Walter Steele to act as his new COO. He also met Ted Kord, the selected heir to Kord Industries. Ted has come to Ion to determine if his family should get into the Booster Gold business. Walter, unbeknownst to all, is a spy for Oliver Queen, aka the Green Arrow, and now is slowly seeding Michael's company with ARGUS Agents. Should Booster Gold be the hero the world needs then ARGUS and Oliver will be ready to step in to help him.

Should he be not... then he'll wish he'd never come to the 21st Century.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"Alright, guys… what do ya got for me?"

Booster was flying over the seats of Ion City, scanning the alleyways and roads for any sign of trouble. Skeets was at his side, the drone using the vast array of sensors that were tucked in his shell to detect any danger. The problem was that the last 9 days had been utterly calm in Ion City. Be it that the criminals weren't as bold as the ones in Central City or as stupid as the ones in Starling or as desperate as they were in Detroit… everyone was on their best behavior ever since Booster had truly established himself as the protector of Ion. Of course for the public this wasn't a problem in the slightest.

For Booster and his team, on the other hand…

"Everything is looking good," Bernie said, glancing at the screen before returning to the puzzle he was building. He, along with Dirk, were in the new control room that lay several stories below the ground floor of Halcyon Tower. Walter had insisted this be the next room completed, so that the assist team would be able to properly advice Booster during his times in the suit. Several computers were set up, fresh from Palmer Tech, the latest in large screen monitors purchased, with a discount, from Kord Industries, and a state-of-the-art communication set up that allowed the team to easily converse with the hero. It was all rather impressive… save for the fact that they hadn't been able to use it for much other than watching Booster fly around and slowly it had become their rec room. Bernie had brought down a puzzle, Ted (who was visiting more and more despite claiming he was still unsure about a partnership between Kord Industries and BG International) had set up a cappuccino machine, and even Walter had finally broken yesterday and hauled in a chess set for him and Skeets to play.

"Nothing? Not even a cat stuck in a tree?" Booster complained.

Dirk frowned as he tried to find a white piece to finish the section he was working on. "I want to see you get back in the news too, Mike, but isn't that a little cliché?"

"Come on, it's a classic!" Booster complained. "Even Supergirl did the cat rescue thing from time to time."

"Who?" Bernie and Dirk both asked.

"Michael," Skeets warned.

"Nothing. Just… bored. Being bored, makes me say silly, bored things. Bored bored bored." He paused. "Bored."

There was a beat.

"Bored." 

Dirk sighed. "I get it, Mike. You aren't the only one. Ion City is bored too… yeah, the general public is happy they aren't being shot at by flying minicoptors or having a swarm of robotic bees ruining their commute but the movers and shakers aren't liking this. The newspapers were counting on you selling copies thanks to your heroic feats but now they are going back to reporting on normal dull stuff. I'm half tempted to put on a costume myself and pose as your-"

"No," Booster said, cutting him off. "We aren't doing that."

Dirk was startled by how forceful his boss was. "I was just kidding-"

"And I am being dead serious. I'm not a fake, Dirk. I've got enough problems with people thinking I'm only in this for the fame and money-"

"Which doesn't hurt," Skeets prompted.

"-but I don't need to make people doubt me even more by using cheap tricks. We do this the honest way. We don't even KID about doing it any other way than that. Now find me something… anything."

Bernie, deciding to take pity on both Dirk and Booster, rolled over to a computer and scanned it. "No robberies… the police chatter is light… oh… oh!"

"I like the sound of those 'ohs'." Booster came to a stop over 5th and Main, rubbing his hands together. "What do you have?" 

Bernie quickly sent Skeets and Booster the directions. "Now, this is a bit different from what you normally handle-"

"Come on… it's me! I can handle anything!"

Two minutes later Booster was standing at the back of a van, discovering that his suit was pretty good at whisky away fear sweats. "I can't handle this."

"AAAAAAAAAAA!" the pregnant woman screamed, her face bright red as she grit her teeth.

"Michael, you can do this," Bernie said.

"Don't tell me what I can do!" Booster screeched.

Dirk was thrilled, bouncing in his chair. "Oh, this is just perfect! Ion City's Golden Hero Rescues' Littlest Fan! It will be great! Can we find a Booster Gold onsie and get it on the baby before the media arrives?"

"Perfect!" Booster said a bit too quickly. "So I'll go direct traffic until the paramedics get here-"

The woman let out another cry.

"According to my scans the paramedics will be here in 4 minutes," Skeets said, Booster sighing in relief. "The baby will be born in 2."

"You gold-plated traitor!" Booster snapped even as Skeets buzzed behind him, pushing him towards the panting mother-to-be. "Seriously, I can't do this. Nothing in my entire life has prepared me for this." 

"It'll be fine," Dr. Klein said. "I can switch on the camera in your goggles and guide you through it. Dirk, I need you to at least turn around, show the woman some respect." 

"Come now, Michael, don't think of it as something traumatic," Skeets said as Booster, cringing, moved towards the woman's spread legs. "Think of it like you are playing football again. 3rd down, the center is hiking the ball…"

Booster looked at the woman before turning to Skeets, his face twisted in derision. "You haven't watched much football, have you?"

"…I admit that when you and I sat down for a late game I tended to turn off my optics and read instead but I know enough." Skeets moved to Booster's other shoulder. "I understand that you are disturbed by this. I can relate. After all, all you organics make me squeamish but-"

"You think people are disgusting?" Booster said. "Wait… you think I'M disgusting?"

"AAAAAAAAAA!" the pregnant woman cried out.

"Hush!" Booster scolded her before turning to Skeets. "What is so disgusting about me?"

"It's… nothing."

"Tell me," Booster said sternly.

"… beard growing."

"Seriously?"

"You have such smooth skin," Skeets said, staring at Booster's face. "Not as nice as my shell but close enough. But then these… horrid little things burst out of your flesh and begin to extend and sometimes people cut them off but others let them keep growing! They even style the disgusting little invaders!" Skeets shuddered.

Booster stared at his best friend before wagging a finger at his. "We are tabling that for another time… because, and I can't believe I'm saying this, I have… ugh."

"I will guide you through, Michael," Bernie said. "Now, let us take a look… oh yes, it looks like the baby is crowning-"

"Hey guys, I brought donuts!" Ted called out as he entered the war room. "By the way, I'm think we should come up with a cool name for this place. Like the Booster Base or the Gold Mine or-" Ted frozen when he saw just WHAT Bernie was assisting Booster with.

"Was that Ted?" Booster asked.

"Yeah," Dirk said, his back still to the screens which meant he had a clear view of the man.

"…is he okay?"

"Well," Dirk began, "you ever see Raiders of the Lost Ark? He's kinda like that without the skin melting."

"…eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," Ted whined.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

 _Central City_

At one time #301 Central Heights had been a normal apartment. Nothing had physically changed about the apartment, at least from the outside. It was still the same size and shape, the same basic layout that every other apartment in the building. To be truthful the apartment itself hadn't actually changed… more that it housed one that had allowed his madness to change it into something… wrong.

Sitting at a cheap desk with only the flickering glow of a computer monitor to illuminate his face was the architect of the insanity. Had it not been for the intense look upon his face or the way his body seemed to tremble and twitch at random intervals he would have been seen as handsome. Shaggy light brown hair, pleasing face, just enough muscle mass to make him look fit without appearing to be a bruiser… any girl would have been pleased to bring him home to meet their parents.

Assuming he didn't open his mouth the entire time.

Or try and stab them all.

The walls of his apartment had come to reflect the world of his mind; both chaotic and distorted by obsession. And even then the obsession was unfocused. New photos and clips had been pasted over old, those that had once been the sole focus on his life reduced to little more than yellowing pieces of paper and photos with curling edges.

Currently two people held center stage in his circus of the obsessed. On one side of the apartment his couch had been pushed aside so he might make a mural of Lisa Snart, secret snapshots taped together so they might form a larger crude portrait. Surrounding these were articles and documents printed from the Internet concerning her. He had everything from her school year book photos (with her fellow classmate's images defaced) to the report of her and her 'Gold Gun'.

On the other end of the apartment, in what should have been his dining room/kitchen, was a table that had been converted into a work desk. Showing that even the mad could be geniuses the stalker had hand drawn blueprints and the guts of the very first Cold Gun wielded by Lisa's brother Leonard Snart. The gun had been torn apart and reworked, the obsessive man having almost completed his task in twisting the weapon into something to fit his chosen style. Here too was a mural, only the photos were less pristine with knives driving into the images and the eyes jabbed out with pencils.

"I was so close," the man whispered, rocking back and forth as he gazed upon his computer screen. "So close. A few more days... a few more days and then I would have won you back." He looked at the mural and smiled tenderly for a moment. "You would have seen... would have seen I was perfect for you!" His smile fell into a sneer. "Or you would have rejected me again... denied my love." He leapt up and screamed at the photos, "Why do you tease me, whore?!" He grabbed a glass and threw it at the wall. "You'd have loved me this time and if you hadn't I'd have wrapped my fingers around your delicate throat and squeezed until every lying gasp of air had left your traitorous lungs!"

He whipped around and jabbed his finger at the display made for Leonard Snart. "It's your fault! You were jealous! I know it! You knew I was about to take your game and expand it to new horizons and you couldn't have that! You can be the only ice villain in town… the great Captain Cold!" the maniac laughed. "Such a stupid name. Mine's better." He began to pace, running his fingers through his hair. "You turned her against me because you couldn't stand that I was going to replace you. Not that it mattered… if you thought taking my love…" he suddenly spun and roared at the mural, "you traitorous whore!" He gripped his head in his hands. "If you thought that would stop you were so wrong… I was days away from revealing myself to the world…" He slowly turned to stare at the computer screen. "And then you came along."

The Youtube video repeated once more, once again showing Booster Gold heroically saving the President.

"You hurt me… you hurt me worst than any other." The stalker walked over to his workbench and picked up his own modified cold gun, the weapon now resembling a cross between a flamethrower and a rifle. "I'll freeze the blood in your veins for what you stole from me!" He fired at the computer, freezing the device in a block of clear ice. He paused, suddenly realizing what he'd done. "And you just destroyed my computer!" He twitched before he marched towards his closet. "Just another reason to make you suffer."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~ 

"Anything interesting, sir?"

Ted looked up from the paper he was reading. He was sitting in his office, his feet propped up on the desk, his speakers streaming his 'Epic Guitar Instrumental Ballad' Playlist. "Nothing. Ever since Mi… Booster Gold helped deliver that baby two days ago things have been rather quiet." Ted paused, looking over at his visitor. "And we discussed this, O'Jeneus… you don't need to call me sir."

Mikron O'Jeneus merely shrugged. While he only stood 4'5" the current head of Ion City's division of Kord Industries had never let that define him; he did not let others see him as a joke nor did he ever show anger or frustration at those that looked down at him (literally and figuratively). He moved through the world as any other man did, allowing his actions to speak for themselves. "It is a sign of respect."

"One I don't deserve," Ted said, planting his feet back on the floor. "My uncle sent me here to look into Booster Gold and to monitor things here but I've gone over your records… whatever my uncle is seeing that is so horrible I can't find it."

"David Kord did not get where he is by resting calmly by while the world moved," O'Jeneus stated. "He probably feels I'm moving too slow on some projects or haven't been daring enough."

"Or this is him playing games again," Ted commented, annoyed. "He likes doing that. Why do you think he keeps my brother Al around? He tells me how horrible he is but mark my words he is whispering the same things about me to him, stringing him along. He wants to see if Al will suddenly change or if I'll turn into the man he wants me to be if I have a little competition."

"I couldn't comment on that," O'Jeneus stated.

"And that would be very wise." Ted crumpled the paper and tossed in the trash. "Seriously though, if anyone is going to be called sir in this place it's you. You've got a good team here and despite what my uncle wants or you might think I'm not here to take over. I'm not taking your office, I'm not giving you a demotion, and I'm not going to suddenly decide to stage a power-trip. I just want to do my work, let you do yours, and we both make a ton of money."

"Be that as it may, I'll continue to show you the respect I feel you deserve… sir." Ted rolled his eyes but didn't say a word, choosing instead to stand up. "What will you be doing today, if I might ask?" O'Jeneus said, falling in pace with Ted as he left his office. "Work on your silent propulsion system?"

"It's already done, just need to figure out what to put it in. People like cars that make vroom vroom noises."

"The new solar collectors?"

"Already sent them to be manufactured so I could run some tests."

"Your new riot gun?"

Ted grinned at that, opening his suit jacket to reveal the item in question. Rather than looking like a standard handgun his pet project looked like a small thin silver blowdryer. "I want to run it through some field testing… I keep believing I'm all set and then I come up with a new feature to add to it. Thinking of a light emitter if I can figure out how to get the right intensity. The solar collectors are working properly but it's all about intensity."

"Is it safe to be carrying that around?" O'Jeneus asked.

"Sure!" Ted said with a grin. He paused, considering though what COULD happen. "Okay, maybe not, but I trust my skills that I didn't invent a gun that would blow up. Besides, this thing is designed to be non-lethal. Going to revolutionize police work."

"And make Kord Industries a ton of money?" O'Jeneus asked.

"And make us a ton of money," Ted echoed.

"I'd be willing to help you, if you wanted," O'Jeneus offered. "Been a few years since I dedicated myself to being in a lab, sure, but it's like riding a bike… or so I hear. Never actually rode a bike."

Ted scoffed. "You aren't missing much. And yeah, if you want to look over my notes for the light emitter then knock yourself out! When I get back we can go over what you thought, maybe pop open one of the extras I keep in my lab and see if we can get it firing off some energy beams. Pretend we are Starfleet captains."

"Or Han Solo?" O'Jeneus asked.

Ted scowled. "A Star Wars fan… I take back what I said about not staging a hostile takeover."

The two of them paused in the lobby. "Then I'm assuming you're going to be visiting BG International today?"

"Yeah," Ted said. "Walter finally got the last of the department heads hired in and I want to watch Michael make a fool of himself. It's funny to see him try and act smart. Besides, they are building… well, things I can't discuss because honestly I don't think I'm supposed to know about them and I'm sure his lawyers are pissed I do but the point is I'm rambling and I want to get going."

O'Jeneus, however, placed a hand on Ted's elbow, stopping him. "Might I be a bit bold?"

"Ooookay…" Ted said slowly.

"You have been seeing Michael Jon Carter a lot."

"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm 14 and you are my disapproving Jewish mother?" 

"I merely wonder why you haven't made things official yet. It is clear to everyone that we are going to be entering into a partnership with BG International… why else would you spend so much time there? So why play these games? Why not simply make the partnership official?"

"Because I'm not sure yet if I want a partnership," Ted admitted. He sighed, shoulders slumping a bit. "There is a difference between me having fun helping a superhero and tying my family's legacy to some guy who nearly threw up helping deliver a baby. I trust my judgment when it comes to myself but I don't trust it yet when it comes to this company. Just because I like the man doesn't mean I should help him in that way." 

"That's your uncle talking," O'Jeneus stated.

"And on that horrifying thought I'll be leaving," Ted said, leaving O'Jeneus watching him and shaking his head.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"Your Sundollar coffee, Mr. Carter," Jack Soo says as Michael hurried out of his office, trying to tie his tie with one hand. The blonde stopped, backed up, and accepted the drink from his new assistant, savoring the taste. "Is it too your liking?"

"God yes," Michael said, stifling a yawn. "And I need the caffeine."

"Up all night patrolling?"

"Uh…"

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

 _The Night Before…_

" _Are you crying?" Bernie asks Skeets, the little drone sniffing as he watched, courtesy of their war room monitor, as Frodo saved Sam from the river and pulled him onto the boat._

" _No," Skeets said sadly. "Just… something in my processor."_

 _Michael shoved another handful of popcorn in his mouth. "So we're doing the Hobbit tomorrow, right?"_

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"Yes… yes I was," Michael said in his most convincing tone.

"Of course sir," Jack says with a smile that makes it clear he isn't buying it.

"Michael, three minutes," Walter tells him as he emerges from his office. 

"Right… crap!" Michael hurries back into his office. "Should I bring the suit? I should bring the suit, right? That is why they are all here to see me."

"They are here for their jobs," Skeets reminds him.

Walter agrees. "And, perhaps, you should leave the forcefield belt behind until you work out a way to change outfits without undressing." 

Mcihael popped back out of his office and laughed ruefully. "Yeah… probably not the best way to make an impression. Thanks Walter." He paused. "But I'm bringing the gauntlets."

"Anything else before you go?" Jack asked as Booster retrieves the light weight gloves that contained his blasters.

"Uh… can I get some Big Belly Burger for lunch? I'm going to hit the gym but this is my cheat day."

"Of course. I'll get your usual." Jack smiles as Michael leaves, only to hiss at Walter, "I am trained in 12 different fighting styles and can hack the NSA… this is so degrading."

"Lyla and Oliver want us to keep an eye on Mr. Carter and if that means playing the role of assistant that is what you'll do."

Jack continued to grin as he said, "if he makes me go in a sauna with him I'm snapping his neck." 

"Jack…"

"Kidding… sort-of."

Walter merely glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching into an almost-smile before he followed after Michael into the conference. "Alright then, I'm glad everyone could make it. I know it is hard to come in on a Saturday but I promise I will make this quick so you can all go back home and enjoy your weekend." Walter moved to step to the head of the table, Michael sitting just to the right of him; Steele was thrilled that, at the very least, Michael knew when to step to the side and let others do the talking. He'd been fearful that he'd be forced to deal with a power-hungry man or a bored non-businessman who wanted all the perks and none of the work. Michael was shaping up to be neither. "I believe we should make some introductions before we lay out the groundwork for what we will be focusing on in the coming weeks. I want to start with those that have been with us for a while. You all should know that I am Walter Steele and I am the Chief Operations Officer." He waved at Dirk, who gave a grin and wiggled his fingers. "Dirk Davis, who is heading up PR and our media division. He will be handling both the company and Booster Gold's brand recognition. Dr. Bernard Klein-"

"Bernie, If you like," Bernie said. "Or Bern-Dog." Everyone stared at him and the doctor shifted. "Just… always wanted to be called that… moving on."

"-is the head of our Medical Division. His team will split their duties assisting Booster in saving lives and in their labs using the money we gather from said heroic work to change lives. Katherine Spencer and Mark Shaw are the co-heads of our legal department and will be making sure that everything Booster does is on the level… we are doing something new here and I don't want it destroyed because some stuck up congressman decided he didn't like us doing the work the police simply can't do. Dr. Tracy Simmons," a dark haired woman with black glasses politely nodded, "is head of our Science division. They are looking into new ways to help Booster fight crime. While the technology he already uses is quite advanced we feel that, with time, we can improve upon it. Skeets, Booster's partner, will be-"

"I do have a question," Tracy said, raising her hand. Walter, while a touch annoyed at being interrupted, motioned for her to go on. "Where exactly did you get the equipment you use, Mr. Carter?"

Michael, who had been playing with his phone, looked up and smiled. "The future." 

"Cute," Dr. Simmons said dryly.

"Thank you!" Michael said. "Still true."

"You want me to believe this is future technology that you just happened to get your hands on?" Simmons said, raising a single sculpted eyebrow.

Michael shrugged. "Central City has a man that can break the sound barrier. Currently Prof. Martin Stein is traveling through time with a young man he fuses with to become a fire-wielding superhero. Star City was attacked by an immortal man with magic powers… is it really that hard to believe I found a crate full of future tech?" His phone chimed and he grinned. "Hey, Ted is here. I'm going to go meet him." He stood up and scanned the room. "I'll trust Walter here to get things settled but I'll meet with everyone when I get a chance. Hey, Doc," he addressed Simmons, "can you make your first project figuring out how to have the nanites in my suit go over my clothes? Tired of stripping down to my skivvies to fight crime. Thanks!" He hurried out, only to run back in and grab his coffee, taking a final sip before leaving.

"…this is the man I've hitched my wagon to?" Tracy Simmons muttered.

"He's horrible at first impressions," Skeets said, finally flying into the room and causing Tracy and several others to jump in surprise. "I should tell you some day how I first met him… it involved a janitor bucket and an exploded can of whip cream…"

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"Don't worry, he's with me!" Michael called out, hurrying over to the security guard that was at that moment pulling on a rubber glove while Ted watched with wide eyes. "Geez, Dan, I said scare him but that is… okay, that is actually really funny. Thanks."

"…seriously?" Ted cried out as Michael walked over, laughing the entire time. "That is… horrible. Hilarious, I admit… but horrible!"

"You're just mad you can't do the same thing to me because it would be copying," Michael pointed out.

"Yeah," Ted admitted. He stroked his chin. "Of course, this also means that I can now think of something much more interesting and utterly more embarrassing to do to you." Ted splayed his hands out. "I'm thinking it will involve a horse."

"I'll both look forward to and dread that happening," Michael said as he led Ted towards the stairs. A large glass balcony/second floor ran along the lobby of Halcyon and Michael loved to lean against the rail and watch people move about. This morning it was rather quiet, as most of the staff was off for the weekend but there were still the odd employee and guard moving about. "Staff meeting is happening, if you are interested." 

"Why aren't you up there, then?" Ted asked. "Isn't that kind of an important thing for you to attend?"

Michael shrugged as they climbed the stairs. "Oh, I'm sure Walter and the rest of my merry band can handle things…"

"Finally figured out that being the big shot in control of a large company sucks?" Ted asked.

"…yeah." 

Ted chuckled, moving with Michael to stand at the end of the balcony and watch as the guards milled about their post. "Why do you think I've resisted any attempt my uncle's made to put me in charge of… anything?" Michael stared at his friend and Ted shrugged. "What? You think this is the first time my uncle's sent me off to monitor a situation? In the last three years he's shipped me to Opal, Vanity, Fawcett… and each time I end up back in Hub, waiting to see where he ships me off to next."

"Is that why you haven't answered me about a partnership?" Michael asked. "You don't want to be yanked back… or stay?" 

Ted sighed and looked at the blond. "Listen, I-" 

"What the frilly hell?" Michael interrupted.

Ted followed Michael's gaze and watched in bemusement as the guards milled around a man in a huge fluffy white fur coat, wondering what exactly they were supposed to do with this new arrival.

"Dear god it's Kanye West," Ted muttered.

"Who?" Michael asked.

"Seriously, where the hell did you grow up?" Ted complained.

"Sir?" one of the guards said, slowly approaching the oddly dressed man. "I'm going to need to see your ID."

"But of course," Mr. Fluffy Coat said, reaching into his coat only to pull out a long silver gun and fire it at the guard. The uniformed man barely had a chance to scream before he was encased in thick bluish-white ice. Ted and Michael both jolted at that and the blond reached for his belt only to realize he wasn't wearing it. "Is that good enough for you? No? How about this!" The attacker opened fire, guards and personnel screaming as they tried to flee his blasts. The beam of super-cold air froze everything it touched, even turning the water vapor in the air into ice crystals.

In the conference room Walter had just gotten done talking with Dr. Klein when alarms began to go off.

"What is that?" Tracy Simmons asked.

"We're being attacked," Walter said grimly. Those that were actual workers nervously looked at each other while Walter caught Jack Soo's eye and nodded. "Do not worry, everyone… Michael is in the building and I am sure he is handling the situation as we speak."

Back in the lobby Michael was staying put.

"What are you waiting for?" Ted hissed. "Get down there!"

"I can't," Michael growled back. "I left most of my suit in my office. All I have are the gauntlets."

"Then use those!" Ted complained only to duck when the beam fired just above his head. He ducked down, Michael instantly joining them, the two shivering as the temperature around them dropped 60 degrees in the blink of an eye. "Okay, so no forcefield might make it a bit harder but I have all the faith in the world in you." He clapped Michael on the shoulder. "I'll flee while you take him on."

"Booster Gold!" Mr. Fluffy Coat roared, hefting his gun in the air and pointing it at random spots. "I know you're up there! Come down here and let me have a word with you!"

"Sure!" Michael called out. "Just drop the gun, let the innocent people go, and I'll gladly come down and we can have a nice conversation about how one properly schedules appointments!"

"And I count as an innocent person!" Ted shouted.

"I can't do the first but the second is doable!" the madman declared. He pointed his gun at the other guards and fired, the men ducking behind their desk as he iced it over. They were alive but now trapped in an ice igloo. "There, happy?" 

"We have very different definitions of 'letting people go'!" Michael called down as he began to tug on his gloves.

"And I'm not innocent… just ask my last girlfriend." Michael looked down at Ted's right hand. "Shut up!"

"Make all the jokes you want but you are going to pay for all you've done to me. You will suffer and you will know agony!"

Ted looked at Michael, a condescending smile on his face. "Someone already made a new friend."

"Joy," Michael said as he finished strapping on his gloves. "Listen, I don't know who you are but-"

"Oh, but you will, thief!" the madman roared, firing at the balcony and forcing Michael and Ted to scurry to a safer location. "And the whole world will know too! They would have known if you had never shown up… if you had never stolen what belonged to me!" Mr. Fluffy Coat puffed out his chest, resting his gun on his shoulder in a clear attempt to look like a badass. "I… am Chillblaine."

"…really?" Michael asked.

"Yes," the madman said. "I am… Chillblaine."

"No, I… I heard you. I'm just trying to wrap my mind around the name. You did say Chillblaine, right?"

"Of course!"

"…why?" Michael complained.

Chillblaine frowned at this, clearly taken aback by his hated foe's distaste for, of all things, his name. "Because I use ice as a weapon!"

"That explains the chill part but why include your first name?" 

"My… my name isn't Blaine," the ice villain said, his bluster going down to a casual tone. "I's Craig Waid."

"…then why the hell are you called Chillblaine?!"

The ice villain shook his head in annoyance. "As in chilblains… the condition that occurs on the fingers and toes when they become too cold… it's like frostbite-"

"Then why not call yourself Frostbite?" Michael argued.

"Are we really having this conversation?" Ted asked.

"My name is fine! You will whisper it with your last breath-"

"Only if my last breath includes the phrase, "The stupidest name for a villain is…". " Michael rolled his eyes. "Seriously, I can think of… ten better names than Chillblaine."

"No you can't!" Chillblaine shouted, actually stomping his foot like a 5 year old having a tantrum.

Michael began to tick of the names. "Frostbite, Coldburn or Coldberns if you want to make it punny, The Blizzard, Snowfall, Mr. Freeze, Dr. Chill, The Iceman, Coldsnap, Iceblock, Shiver! And hey, if you get a sidekick you can call'em Frostnip. There!" 

"I think one of those names is already taken," Ted muttered.

"…said the thief who goes by 'Booster Gold'."

"He has you there," Ted said.

"Okay, enough of this!" Michael popped up and began to fire on Chillblaine, forcing the killer back. "No one comes into my headquarters and insults my name… especially when they are some loser named Chillblaine!" Seeing that his foe was stumbling back Michael fired on the ice igloo, freeing the guards. "Get out of here!" he shouted.

"No one leaves until you're dead!" Chillblaine roared, pulling out a small blue-white cylinder and throwing it at the door. The moment the object it there was an icy explosion that covered the entire entryway of Halcyon in a foot of solid ice. The guards, for their part, skidded back and finally decided to seek shelter elsewhere, realizing that they were just getting in the way. Chillblaine took out another cylinder and primed it. "Cyro Grenade… something that loser Captain Cold never thought of!" He heaved it up towards Michael and the blond grabbed Ted.

"HOLD ON!" Michael shouted, thankful that he'd at least worn his Legion Flight Ring. The two soared over the balcony just before the grenade hit, turning their former hiding spot into a frozen block. Michael landed next to the stairwell and shoved Ted inside. "Come on!"

Chillblaine watched Michael flee and roared in frustration. "You think this is the end? You think you can escape! I will hunt you down and I will destroy you!" He began to fire wildly in the air, coating the ceiling in ice, before he marched towards another stairwell door, snow sprinkling down on top of him.

In said stairwell Ted was looking up the many flights of stairs and wishing he'd just stayed at the office. "Okay, so I think it might be best if we went up a few flights, hid, and then tried finding a different way up once we knew Chillblaine has-"

Michael lifted Ted up like he was a mountainman's bride and flew straight up.

"Or this works too. Plan?"

"Contact Walter, figure out a way to take the badguy down, do said thing I just said, and then get lunch."

"Those sound more like goals than plans."

"All about the vision, Ted," Michael said, finally coming to a stop on the 8th floor. "Come on, we need into an office."

Ted looked around the office space as Michael hurried towards the nearest office. "What is this?"

"Legal," Michael said. "So worst case I can sue Chillblaine for having a stupid name."

"You honestly aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"Do you think anyone would care about the Flash if he fought Mister Chillybutt instead of 'Captain Cold'?" 

"…that is oddly a good point. Carry on."

In the conference room Walter started a bit when the phone began to ring. "Yes?"

"Hey Walter," Michael said, trying to keep his tone light. "How's it going? Not panicked, right? No insane guys in white fur coats trying to kill you?"

The COO merely pursed his lips. "What is going on down there?"

"Oh, just a psychopath with a horrible name wants to kill me. Everyone else is just collateral damage so I need you to get anyone that is still in the tower to the top floor and then lock it down."

Tracy frowned at that. "That is your answer? Hide?"

"You guys will get in my way and I'm not having anyone else die today. Send a signal, text, tweets, put a damn message of Facebook, I don't care… just tell them to get to the top floor and then seal the doors!"

Skeets though was not happy with the plan. "Michael, your suit is up here. We can't seal the floor until you retrieve it."

"Wrong," Michael said. "You seal it and I'll just have to figure something else out."

"Michael, we're all here for you so keep the comm up," Walter said. "We'll help you how we can." He snapped his fingers at the lawyers. "You heard the man, begin making phone calls! Doctor Klein, Doctor Simmons, you stay here with me. Skeets, I want you to grab Michael's equipment and get it to him."

"Too risky," Michael said. "Skeets, no offense buddy but you are a hovering target. This guy is nuts but he is a crack shot."

"I'll go," Jack Soo said from the doorway. "I'll escort him."

"The hell you will!" Michael shouted.

"Michael, it will be alright. Jack won't be going anywhere." Even as he said it Walter looked at Jack and gave him a nod, the secret ARGUS agent nodding before motioning for Skeets to follow. "Now then, our first course of action-"

Dirk cut the other man off. "Mike, I'm not going to beat around the bush like Walter and just come right out and ask it: how bad is the guy's name?" Klein, Walter, Tracy, and the lawyers all stared at Dirk. "What?" 

Walter coldly answered, "This is hardly the-"

"He goes by Chillblaine."

The COO couldn't stop the disgusted groan that bubbled from his lips.

Klein's face screwed up in derision. "Like… the condition one gets when their fingers and toes are exposed to extreme cold?" 

"That's just a lesser form of frostbite," Tracy complained. "Why not go with Frostbite?"

"I said the same thing!"

Walter pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bad names aside, this Mr. Blaine-"

"Blaine isn't even his name," Ted stated, his team once more letting out groans of contempt. "Said his name was Craig Waid."

Walter snapped his fingers at Dirk. "Look him up, now! Michael, Ted, what is your plan?"

"Well, I for one would be happy with waiting for the National Guard-OOMF!" Ted groaned as Michael elbowed him in the gut.

"The plan is that I lead Chillblaine on a merry little chase so you can get everyone locked away safe. Then I figure out had to take him down. Hopefully you guys can help me out with that."

"I might be able to get you more info the play with," Ted said, moving towards a computer. "If you give me the access codes for the security cams I can beam them-"

The brunette was forced to leap back when the computer was hit by a beam of ice, turning it into an expensive paperweight.

"My new friend is here, talk later," Michael said with mock cheer before focusing on firing on Chillblaine. "Not that I don't mind you coming in here and wrecking up my place of business-" he leaned ducked behind a desk before providing coverfire so Ted might sneak behind something not currently a target, "-but mind telling me what has your panties in a bunch?"

"You!" Chillblaine roared, firing another beam of icy death at Michael. The costumeless hero managed to dive out of the way and fire back, cheering the hit he scored only to realize after the fact that all he'd done is put a hole in the man's furry jacket. "You ruined my life!"

Michael dashed to the side, refusing to use his ring unless he had too; no reason to reveal that little trick just yet. Tucking into a roll, he came to stop in a crouch and fired twin shots at Chillblaine, forcing the man to take cover behind a wall. "You keep saying things like that and I have no idea what you're talking about! So how about you drop me a clue and explain just what I did that was so horrible it made you want to kill me!" He glanced over at Ted, ensuring that his friend was fine before adding, "Come on… did I stop you from robbing a bank? Damage your car in a battle? You blame me for the death of someone you love? Tell me and maybe we can work this out."

Ted mouth, 'really?' only for Michael to mouth back 'shit no'.

"You honestly… honestly don't know what you've done?"

"Considering we've never met? Yeah, I don't know!" Michael shouted. "maybe if you tell me, I can fix it!"

"You can never fix this," Chillblaine said, shrugging off his coat. "You stole my costume design!"

"…what?" Michael said flatly. He slowly peaked his head over the desk and stared at the revealed Chillblaine. The man before him had brownish blonde hair that, like with his Booster Gold costume was free from any cover. He wore a cowl too but had no goggles to cover his eyes. While the Booster costume was a blue top and golden bottoms Chillblaine had on a armless and legless pale yellow unitard over a blue body suit. He had on long yellow gloves with blue stitching as well as boots in the same color. There was no logo on his chest; no, instead Chillblaine sported white furry shoulder pads, two white fur belts around his waist, and what could only be described as a necklace of white polished metal discs around his neck. There was a pouch for his Cyro Grenades on his hip and a holster for his cold rifle on his back.

"…you stupid idiot!" Michael shouted, popping up from his hiding spot. "We look nothing alike!"

"Yes we do!" Chillblaine shouted. "You stole my costume idea!" 

"First off you can't steal something that you don't even know exists. Second our costumes have similar colors… that's it. And even then only the tops are close. And I don't have those idiotic fur… whatever the hell those are on your shoulders. And why do you have two belts?"

"Don't question my style!"

"Oh, I'm questioning it," Michael said with wide eyes and a mocking tone. He began to slowly circle the deranged stalker. "I'm questioning all of…" he waved his hand at Chillblaine, his face screwed up with the same look one might have after smelling a spoiled burrito. "…this. Like what the hell is with the 70s era disco necklace. I mean, even for this time that is out of date."

"You dare… you dare mock me… after you stole my lock!?"

"I wouldn't steal that look if wearing it made me immortal. Why the hell is it yellow and blue? You're ice themed villain. As ugly as the white fur is at least that kinda makes sense. Why not white… or light blue."

"I have on blue. Blue as frozen lips." 

"And what, yellow for snow that got peed in?" Michael challenged, continuing his walk around Chillblaine.

"You are just trying to justify your theft!" Chillblaine screeched.

"No, I'm trying to wrap my head around your stupid outfit."

Chillblaine grin his teeth and pointed his gun right at Michael. "One more word and I kill you."

"You said you'd kill me anyway," Michael pointed out. "So kind of a lose lose. You should really make up your mind and for god sakes Ted hurry up!"

Chillblaine whipped around, firing at one desk as Ted quickly dove behind Michael. The hero aimed and sent a blast of energy at Chillblaine, catching him right in the stomach and sending him stumbled back, gripping his chest. "Okay, pretty sure I broke a few ribs." Chillblaine grabbed a Cyro Grenade. "But let's not stick around!" Ted and him moved into the stairway once more, Michael poking his head out last time to taunt, "You have two belts, man! They don't even hold anything up!" With a roar the villain fired, Michael shutting the door just in time for Chillblaine to ice it over. The villain panted before he realized he'd just sealed the exit and now couldn't chase right after them.

"That will buy us some time," Michael said, once more grabbing Ted and flying up. "He'll have to go to another stairwell and then cross the next floor. Give us a chance to get all set up." 

"Set up for what?" Ted asked as Michael stopped at the 20th floor. He pulled out the cellphone he's snagged from one desk and quickly began to call Walter. "And you honestly annoyed him on purpose? That is… scary clever."

"Part of my winning charm. Walter, is everyone safe?" Michael asked once he released Ted.

"The last person is now in, Michael," Walter said. "We are going into lockdown."

"Good… keep everyone there till I settle this. We find out any more about this loser?"

"We have," Mark Shaw said. "Craig Waid has been a regular for the Central City PD for years now but recently they lost track of him with the influx of metas." 

"What were the complaints?" Michael asked.

"Stalking," Katherine stated. "The guy is a serial stalker. Deranged too, from the sounds of it. He doesn't just stalk people he stalks businesses, buses, I even have a report of him trailing after a dog, the owner saying Waid thought the dog had caused him to lose a winning lotto ticket."

"Of course, because I simply couldn't have attracted a normal crazy person. Any idea how he got his hands on a cold gun?"

Shaw took back over. "Well, two years ago the Central City PD began getting requests for information concerning a woman wanted in connection to some robberies, murders, and even a jail break. They didn't think much of it because everyone was asking for info back then but later a Detective Joe West did some digging and realize the newspaper that requested the information didn't exist and the address given had been the one time home of Craig Waid." Shaw paused. "The woman he was stalking was Lisa Snart."

"Captain Cold's sister," Michael muttered.

"Wait, what?" Ted hissed.

Michael sighed and put the phone on speaker. "Ted's now on. So Chillblaine began stalking Lisa Snart?"

"Yes, Michael," Walter said. "We also found another report… it seems that last year, around the time Leonard Snart escaped from prison, one of the cold guns that was confiscated from his hideout went missing. The police assumed Snart simply took two of them but we believe that Chill… that Mr. Waid took it himself and has modified it."

"Michael," Tracy chimed in, "Craig Waid has a degree in engineering and despite his insanity is a brilliant man. He clearly made these weapons himself and will know how to use them. I need to know what you currently have on you if we're going to make a gameplan."

"I only have my flight ring and my gauntlets."

Walter frowned. "If you can stall for a few more minutes Jack and Skeets should be near you with your suit-"

"I thought I told you to lock them in too!" Michael snapped.

"Jack insisted," Walter stated. "He understood we would have a better chance of surviving this if you were fully outfitted."

Tracy chimed in. "Your blasters don't have a heat setting, do they?"

Michael shook his head. "No, they are designed to fire cool. The energy is purely physical." 

"Then we have two brute force guns and the ability to fly."

"Actually no," Ted said, finally chiming in. He pulled out his riot gun. "I have something that might even the odds."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

Meanwhile, 19 floors above Michael and Ted, Jack and Skeets were hurrying down the stairs, Michael's forcefield belt and goggles slung over Jack's shoulder. "I must say, Mr. Soo, you are doing rather well. An average man would not be able to keep the pace you are at."

Jack shrugged, trying to play off his feat. "Well, you know… I jog." He turned and began down another set of steps. "This would be easier if I could just put on Michael's costume. The forcefield field would let me leap down 5 stories without feeling a thing."

"True but without the Legion ring you would not be able to fly. Furthermore when we arrived… here… Michael had me calibrate all his equipment so that it would only work for one of his genetic makeup. Thus the belt is quickly simply a large paperweight at the moment."

"Right," Jack said, filing that away. "So, I've been meaning to ask… where are you and Michael from?"

"A place you've never heard of, I'd imagine."

Jack decided to pry a bit more. "It's just… you are really advanced. Really. I've never seen a piece of machinery like you."

"Thank you, sir!" Skeets said happily. "I do think I am rather special myself."

"When… compared to others like you?"

"Oh yes. I suppose others of my make and mold show some human emotion but I have always been unique… part of why I was assigned the duties I was."

"And thus duties were-"

Before Jack could finish a blast shot up from a lower part of the stairwell, coating the rail with ice. The secret ARGUS agent nearly slipped but Skeets quickly bopped him and moved him back. The two pressed themselves to the wall as more beams fired, some hitting far below, some racing higher up.

"I think we found Michael's opponent," Skeets stated.

"We have to get down there," Jack said.

Skeets hovered to the edge and did a quick scan. "I detect that Michael and Mr. Kord are 150 feet below us. At our current rate it will take us roughly 5 minutes to descend all the way. However, with the ice beams we will need to go more slowly."

"Nope, need to get to him ASAP." Jack spotted a firehose box on the wall and nodded. "We need to get down another 50 feet!"

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

Down where Michael and Ted were at they were doing their best to run and gun as Chillblaine fired on them. The blond was blasting chunks out of the stairwell while Ted was using his riot gun to drive Chillblaine back whenever he gained a bit too much on them.

"I can't believe we are going to be killed!" Ted whined.

"I can't believe we're going to be killed by a guy named Chillblaine," Michael retorted.

"Will you let it go?"

"Just imagine the headline," Michael snarked. "'Kord Industries Heir Murdered By Chillblaine'."

"…oh god, I'm going to die to someone named Chillblaine."

"See?!" Michael complained before firing off a few more shots. "What are you hitting him with?" Michael called out, ducking just to avoid a blast from Chillblaine. The man was now only one flight below them and was getting a bit too accurate for both of their tastes.

"I designed the gun to be a non-lethal weapon while also solving the problem with reload." Ted paused, firing off a shot that nearly hit Chillblaine, the villain managing to slide out of the way just in time. The wall behind him took the brunt of the attack, trembling slightly. "When I fire it shoots a concentrated burst of air while also sucking in the next shot. The blast should fell a charging rhino."

"Great," Michael said dryly. "Look for the rhinos while I deal with the guy trying to kill us!"

"Hey, I didn't plan on being in a supervillain duel today!"

"I will freeze the blood in your veins and peel the costume from your body!" Chillblaine declared.

"News flash, idiot, I'm not wearing my costume! I don't even-"

"BOOSTER!"

Michael and Ted looked up, watching as Jack came repelling down the stairwell via a fire hose-turned-rope while Skeets sent a few electrical blasts to distract Chillblaine. The assistant swung over to them, Ted catching him as he tumbled to their flight of stairs.

"Jack!" Michael exclaimed.

"Special delivery!" Jack said with a grin.

"Remind me to give you a raise…" Michael began to say only for Chillblaine to begin firing again. Skeets had been forced to retreat, a bit of ice on the tip of one of his fins, and now the villain could focus on them again. "Ted, get him out of here!" Michael shed his shirt. "I got this." Ted nodded, quickly helping Jack up the next flight of stairs while Michael snapped on his belt and activated his suit, the nanobots rushing over him and forming into the Booster Gold costume.

That's when the ice villain struck.

Michael cried out as his left arm was hit, ice rapidly covering it and sticking it to the wall. He moved to try and free himself only for his other arm to also be pinned. Because the suit wasn't fully formed the forecfield hadn't been turned on, leaving him shivering as he felt his arms began to succumb to instant hypothermia.

"Michael!" Skeets cried, going in to help his friend only to end up in a block of ice for his trouble.

"SKEETS!" Michael shouted as the drone fell to the ground near his feet. He struggled to free himself even as Chillblaine slowly approached, a manic grin on his face as he charged up his weapon. Michael let out a pained roar as he fought and struggled, his movements only slowly when Chillblaine praised the barrel of his weapon to Michael's chest, slowly easing him back against the wall.

"And this is where it ends, thief. You will die like all man do and I will reclaim what is mine." Chillblaine flashed his pearly whites. "All it will take his the pulling of the trigger and my icethrower will freeze your heart and turn your lungs-"

"Icethrower?" Michael said. "That's… that's what you call it?"

"Yes," Chillblaine said, confused. "Like… it's a flamethrower… but for ice."

"…dear god you suck at naming things."

"And you're no longer alive," Chillblaine said.

"And I'm dead… just say that! Stop making it so complicated and Ted SHOOT HIM ALREADY!"

Chillblaine whipped around only to let out a whimpering gurgle when a blast from the riot gun hit him right between the legs.

"Nice shot," Michael said as Ted hurried down, carefully using his gun to blast the ice holding Michael in place.

"I was going for his head," Ted admitted. 

"Well, it worked." Michael paused, looking down at the whimpering madman. "Big Chill. That's eleven names." He kicked Chillblaine in the head, knocking him out.

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

" _-op Story: Halcyon Tower was attacked by a man in a knock-off Booster Gold costume who attempted to take down Ion City's hero. Booster Gold was able to apprehend the criminal but not before two of the guards working the front doors at the time of the attack were killed. The attacker, a Craig Waid of Central City, is currently being transferred to Iron Heights before awaiting trial…"_

Michael groaned as he watched the news. "They had to call that piece of crap outfit a 'knock off' of my suit?"

"Just let it go, man," Ted said.

"Still… Hail to the conquering heroes," Dirk said with a grin.

Michael certainly didn't look or feel like a conquering anything. He was sitting in a desk chair, his upper body wrapped in heated pads while Dr. Klein looked over his hands and fingers carefully. He was already beginning to bruise and his trademark smile had been wiped off his face the moment the crisis had come to an end. He fretted over Skeets, despite the little drone sending messages to his comm assuring him he was find and actually found the ice quite comfy, and had become morose at the news that they'd lost two guards in Chillblaine's attack.

"Why are you heating my chest?" Michael said glumly. "It was my arms that got hit."

Bernie shook his head. "Blood doesn't sit in your veins... you know that, right? It is constantly moving. Yes, the muscles are cold right now but nice warm blood is being pumped from your heart and cold blood is coming into your chest. Warm your core first and your body will do the rest. You can relax your arms now." Michael nodded, quickly accepting a blanket from Tracy and wrapping it around himself, pulling his arms tight to his chest. "No lasting damage... and no need to use those horrid nanites."

"They would have me fixed up in seconds."

"And this will do the same thing over time," Bernie countered. "Patience is a virtue, after all."

"You did well today, Michael," Walter said.

"I could have done amazing if I'd been smart enough to grab my belt," he complained.

"It could have been much worse," Walter stated sternly. "You saved so many lives today..."

"And still let two people die," Michael shot back. "That isn't a victory, Walter."

Tracy shook her head. "You know, when you first introduced yourself today in the conference from I thought you were an idiot."

Michael managed a grin. "And?" 

Tracy just stared at him and walked away. 

"…and? And?" Michael looked at the others who, save for Bernie (due to him focusing on Michael's recovery) were hiding their snickers. "Uh… isn't this the part where she admits she was wrong and how I proved myself today and I've earned her loyalty?"

Ted groaned. "We might resemble the cast of a CW show but we aren't one, okay? There is no touching wrap-up at the end of the 'episode' where we solve all our problems and everything is wrapped up in a nice little bow."

"...do you practice those little speeches?" Michael asked.

Walter patted Michael on the shoulder. "It's a start, Michael."

"A good start or a bad start… Walter?" Michael scoffed when his COO began to walk away. "Why does everyone keep doing that?! Ted?" the brunette began to amble away himself. "Oh come on!" 

Ted merely smirked even as he pulled out his smartphone and stepped into an empty office. "O'Jeneus? This is Ted… yeah, I'm fine… listen… yeah… no, the opposite. Tell my uncle I want to schedule a meeting… yeah, we are going to partner with Booster Gold."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

"Yes sir," O'Jeneus said as Ted asked him to begin the process of forming a formal partnership between Kord Industries and BG International. "I'll talk to your uncle's assistant about setting something up… and then begin seeing about getting you an assistant." The short man chuckled as Ted fumbled with an apology. "It is okay, sir. I don't mind this time. Yes… yes… I will see you tomorrow." Ending the call Mikron O'Jeneus looked over the man that was currently standing next to him, his arms crossed over his costumed chest. "He's decided to go with the partnership."

" **Good,"** Supernova stated. **"I had been growing impatient. My employers need to know everything there is to know about Booster Gold so that we can be better prepared to destroy him."**

"I thought you were using that idiot Mandragora to do that?" O'Jeneus asked, slipping out of his chair and waddling over to his dry bar.

" **Mandragora is merely a distraction. He is the hammer that tenderizes the meat. Should he manage to actually kill Booster I'll be shocked."**

"So will I," O'Jeneus muttered. "I've met the fools he has inducted into his '100 Program' and I've been less than impressed with them." The short man began to mix himself a drink. "It took me two hours to teach Prewitt how to use his vibration gauntlets and the idiot still almost blew his nose off when he went to pick it. I'm beginning to think that The 100 refers to their IQ."

" **I don't need them to be smart,"** Supernova growled. **"I need them to distract and wear down the golden fool."**

"Does that voice actually scare people?" O'Jeneus asked casually as he began to shake his drink. "Or do you do it purely because it sounds 'cool'?" He rolled his eyes and set about cutting a lime wedge. "I've heard your real voice, Supernova… I don't know why you insist on using that silly voice."

The masked villain glared at O'Jeneus and slowly clenched his fist.

"Are you planning to blast the back of my skull in?" O'Jeneus said dryly, not even bothering to look back at the intimidating figure. "I suppose you could, though other than my surprised face," O'Jeneus made an overly exaggerated 'gasping' face before continuing, "the only other thing you'll have to look forward to is your slow and painful death given to you by our employers." At this O'Jeneus slowly turned around and Supernova lowered his first, though the inventor could tell that the man was glaring at him. "I'm not one of your pawns. I was hired by the Legion the same as you. Your task is to keep Mandragora in line while I supply his idiots with the tools they need to at least last five seconds against Booster Gold. My payment is that they ensure Kord Industries rises from the ashes of Booster's fall stronger than ever and you… honestly I don't know what you get and I don't care. Just never forget that I'm not below you… in fact I'm above. The Legion will have a hard time replacing me… you though? They can find any idiot with a grudge and shove him in that suit." O'Jeneus turned and sipped his drink. "Now leave so I can get drunk in peace."

Supernova glared at the man before disappearing with a crack.

"Good boy."

~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~BOOSTER~

Next Time on BOOSTER GOLD!

While no one else seems interested in it, Michael is jumping for joy over the thought of Halloween. It's his favorite holiday and while much of his staff would be happy treating it like any other day Michael wants to make sure he shows all of Ion why the 31st is so great.

Too bad for Michael that Mandragora is also in the Halloween Spirit. And what better way to celebrate than with a nightmare born from Deathstroke's mad schemes? No tricks, no treats… Devil's Night is about to become a fight for Michael's life… against something that can't die.

Next Week: Born on a Monday

-Chillblaine attacks the Halcyon

-Powerless battle

-Ted finally relents

\- Kord Industries assisting Mandragora

-What to call the war room.

The Team

Booster

Skeets- Tech

Walter- COO

Dirk- Public Relations

Tracy Simmons- head of science division

Jack Soo- Assistant (Secret ARGUS agent)

Michelle- Secuirty

Ted- Engineer

Klein- Medical

Ted Gear- Nanofiber energy cable, BB Gun, ultifriction gloves and boots, goggles,


End file.
